I could only tell one
because I was afraid
would pull me up
out of the dark earth
that my hope
had not yet
Before the thaw, there was ice and cousins and laughter and skating down on the village rink!
Stitching a blue ribbon for our neighborhood olymic event: rodeo slide!
Heading out from the frozen white world into the iridescent green world below the surface, through the magic of ice fishing. Many thanks to our dear neighbor, Mike, who takes us out onto the ice and shares his shanty and his love for fishing!
. . . Poetry arrived in search of me.
I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from,
from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when. . .
— Pablo Neruda