A watchful pot never boils...
and an expected phone call never rings.
Caught halfway
between what was
and what could be,
we wait
like horses bucking
behind a starting gate
thoroughly encased in ice.
Haiku [untitled]
Winter and the cold snow bring the dark-eyed juncos. My heart, full, watches.
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Today's color: White GISH Starchy shrapnel covers the cutting board-- evidence of a warped mind driven to carve a couch ...
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