Monday, January 9, 2017


The gaze of the winter sun
On my neck
A transient comfort
From a familiar touch

A snowflake melts
On my chest.
Cold stinging thru
Another familiar pain.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Swirls of Color

[pic: Aeshna]
A bird in flight
Unencumbered swirls
Flight of fancy.


Whatever there be of progress in life comes not through adaptation but through daring, through obeying the blind urge. - Henry Miller