by William Keller A red eft crosses the rail trail, slowly,gravel big as boulders to his elbowedlegs. When I approach, he freezes –not camouflaged, but bright as an autumnleaf, gold eye-rings…
by Kevin T McEneaney The syntax of spring has sprung its magic while tongue can sing its glad astonishment at bulbs bursting into varied color when slight showers bead yellow…
by Neil Donnelly “Let us leave pretty women to men without Imagination” – Marcel Proust a tree, a sunset, sunrise; baby’s gurgle, a goalkeeper’s diving penalty save, a waterfall, singing…
Version 1.0.0 by Kevin T McEneaney Let us observe the weight of a hammer. If you put the quarks and electrons on a scale, the combined weight of all of…
by Kevin T McEneaney Forsythia, that banner flag of Spring, blooms by window and sharp-curving roadside with yellow prolixity and promise of warmer weather with low-cloud-cover, and constant threat of…
by Kevin T McEneaney The syntax of spring has sprung its magic while tongue can sing its glad astonishment at bulbs bursting into varied color when slight showers bead yellow…
by Kevin T McEneaney Gently trickling rain on the windowpane lulls one to sleep and dream of quirky things: like butterflies dancing in fickle breeze, bright sunny days on mountain-top…
by Bill Keller I don't see a soul on this Good Friday run, though the trail's hospitable, trees in bud and birds softly twittering. Spring feels different with hate our…