The sky tonight, I’m surprised to find, is grey instead of black; dull enough to make me doubt the stars are coming back. But turning now, to your eyes, cornflower blue and all, reminds me how much time it took to get from spring to fall. That golden season wand’ring streets at midnight hours passed, […]

Earth, bruised by Amy Ward   Mother, I cannot hear you Mother do you speak, in whispers or cries? I am short-sighted by my own survival You drip, I drip I bleed, you ache I write in the shadows Organic, mystic, open to light? The paper birds fly, it makes me cry The net shifts, […]