top of page
  • Gary Hunter

Those could be God’s Fingerprints - Dec. 2, 2022

parallel ridges of dirty clouds

smudged onto this November sky

floating above the grim majesty

of naked trees dotted

with stubborn brown leaves

replacing the colors of summer

with a cold wind emptied of sweetness

in a gloom tinged with gray

the shift moves deeper

sobering images everywhere

yang replaced by yin

in the dearth of light

a kind of surrender

a shift in hope

an abysmal longing

how different the poems

started on fall days


Recent Posts

See All

our dog walks once skirting the golf course both sides of the creek all around Sunny Dunes up and down Palm Canyon Drive have become the same square block of sidewalk every morning a short track for s

I can handle clouds if some light shines inside me cream in my coffee

what the hell? I keep kneeing the edge of the bedframe shoulder-bumping doorways scraping my ankles on boulders in the garden as if something in me tries to grind edges off the world shortcuts to wher

bottom of page