Til’ we meet again

My mind traverses the continent with you. It glides in mid-air across cirrocumulus clouds, strolls through mist-filled streets in-between red-brick walls, and sits by the window looking out to a collegiate gothic tower. As you turn the wind-coat collar to the cold and damp, shower in the golden sun rays among squirrels and water birds, …

On a cloistered night

A lump in my throat, Not heavy like Adam’s apple or sharp like an uncut gemstone. A fairy wren trapped in a deep well, flapping its wings to keep  itself in mid-air. a fairy wren by Punk Biologist Where did the egg hatch? It’s hard to recall from  a thousand places in memory. Was it …