
sunlit garden
to distant mountains —
every shade of green.

sunlit garden
to distant mountains —
every shade of green.


between snowy banks,
a silvery river
slips through cold mountains.
As many of the ones that aren’t war-torn or underwater as I possibly can.

I hope they say, “He was kind of loud, never kept to himself, and we always thought he might be a serial killer.”

Today is the first day of the rest of this week.

Performed? Not yet. (Unless you count “Crowd Member Milling About [with No Lines] – #7” in an Elementary School Christmas Pageant.) Given a speech? Yes. Unless it is completely impromptu, it is nowhere near the top of my list of horrifying life events.