The Late Gold
–-This poem reflects on the long shadows of late summer, where even familiar boundaries become softened by evening light and the quiet…
January Manual
–—By now the body has caught up to the calendar. The fatigue isn’t dramatic; it’s mechanical. This poem is about residual weight…
The Quiet Season
–– The closing cup. Not a celebration, not a reckoning, just a clean ending. A moment held long enough to notice it…
The Quiet Season
–—The penultimate day. Not reflective yet, not anticipatory either. Just a quiet conversation with what’s coming, held over a cooling cup. You…
The Quiet Season
–—This is the subtle turn, the almost-imperceptible shift when the year stops collapsing inward and begins, quietly, to lean the other way.…
The Quiet Season
–—This is the slow inhale before the solstice, when the evenings stretch to their limit and the dark feels deliberate, almost ceremonial,…
Late Fall Brew
–—this is the day when the house itself starts preparing for winter, wood contracting, vents sighing, radiators clicking like old bones It…
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