By the River

The downpour must be waiting for something.

A Free Verse Poem

All the spent brush littering the hillside to the right,

mostly brown to the left as well,

railroad tracks not far behind, hidden by the slopes.

“I swear it’s beautiful in the spring.”

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L’Hiver de la tristesse

perhaps it is the way that life itself seems to disappear

I am a summertime poet;

I cannot wax lyrical about the bare branches

or frosty earth.

Perhaps it is the fact that the blood,

so warm as it rushes through my core

turns oh so frigid by the time it reaches my fingertips.

Continue reading “L’Hiver de la tristesse”