A Shuck of Stone

When the lemon yellow of a doubtful flower tells lies And the hush pink plum blossoms first fail to surmise A touch and a kiss turn to stone. When the steep turn toward the dark cherry dyes And find winkle’s wake still seeping under the sash A drink and a dress turn to stone. To…

November Day Along the River

How are you? You are how this is too easy a still gift of photographs almost like a real letter. You like flowers, flowers like you, like Peonies, purple green red yellow mopped hair Marigolds, red orange bites Red geraniums in a real clay pot and those little white hanging threading flowers, I don’t know…