Posted in Memoir, Photography, Poetry


winter, winter, winter
she begrudgingly
asks “who is winter?”
me and everyone.
cold, stark,
unwelcoming spring
waits for no one.

I lie here
frozen. The wheel moves
my mind. The thaw
penetrable by
spring’s innocence.

i pray to pass up
summer’s heat
sweltering, the shame of fall.
autumn brisk.
laughing leaves
pile high, hiding tears
frozen once again.

Time stood still

Ecclesiastes 1:9 What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.