our shooting party–
a kangaroo
licks my wound
3580
Poem Category: All
3579
Wednesdays…
pruning her roses
she left me
3578
climbing rose
darkens the face
of the sundial
3577
lightning
ignites the ocean
I sail alone
3576
in the late sun
I just faced
a butterfly
3575
her brush–
silently in sunshine
a butterfly’s… touch
3574
in the rain
I should not point out
the weeds she left
3573
ghost town
a white horse
as we drive out
3572
our long weekend
painting the room–
the baby’s future
3571
tools–
she’s tilling
to free her roses