She’d sailed by the stars, rounding islands of moons to arrive home. Joanna leaned into the helm, her final tack bringing her ship into bayside. Continue reading
Elbows on bent knees,
Hands dangle between, wings on a gentle-breezed bird.
Butt planted, chilly on Autumnal Earth.
Grass spent, golden and crackling
Under a sky sharp as blue porcelain.
Leaves flicker down from balding trees,
The memories still, cut deep.
The days grow short, the nights shine sweet crystal, cool under fulsome moons. Bare armed with glass raised high, we toast midnight relief from saturated days, leaning back into night’s caress. Continue reading