seems Sundays are the days nature sends out invitations for brunch or breakfast dishes of green leaves and blue sky the sun’s refillable...

the honeybees sleep while a soft buzz approaches sweet wings or nightmare

snakes that used to watch us from their dens or slip away with a flick of the tail now crouch near well-traveled paths eyes dilated with...

how about a pooch that fetches unfailingly every time spins rolls over jumps on command doesn’t eat get sick or die with enhanced senses...

Listens to their house’s old pipes like they’re a dotty old uncle who’s flushed a toilet that better fill up then shut up or hears...

I have no idea though I do know each little tike will grow and shoot a lifetime of dark videos and find a projectionist along the way to...

Interesting how my life runs in hot and cold circles in search of warm not just my personal weather but these emotions that enjoy roller...

I often seek counsel from my inner team my ethical lawyer present when I face a sticky choice the honest friend always there to offer...

one fat parlor palm has just split its potted pants I shop big and tall

a few hope to be colorful memories pressed onto the page of someone’s life others wish to see the town or at least visit the perimeter of...