Tag Archives: Andrew Wyeth

Musing

Birdless solitude, Winter’s song, slow, deep, solemn– Musing upon spring. Advertisements

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Lullaby

Hear the bleached creaking, of chafed slats upon silence– Winter’s lullaby.

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Christina’s World

Through valid struggle, promise harboring burden– there’s no place like home.

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Winter, A Love Story

Winter’s brides, wearing long white scarves of sleet and song, touching pale sky to blue lips, breathing memory and frost; their sorrow and spectral want grows hands  that enclose me, a robust crush, matrimonial in its grip, until I am … Continue reading

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