Archives: Poem Gallery

travelling circus
the folding of tents here
has a meaning

chill wind
the park swings
weeping our eyes

bitter winds–
the boathouse keys
fumbling locks

the roughhouse birds–
our shared breakfasts
of toasted crusts

my pets and I…
the twilight moving
the cat inside

rainbow…
on the window pane
one last thunder

what flavours
are apples composed
of sunshine

first light
motions the shades
from the shade

pigeons peck
the throw out gifts
of confetti and rice