I can’t heal the world, not on my own. Can’t heal America, can’t do much beyond my own limited vision.
And yet… Continue reading
Poetry
Queen of the Night*
Creamy cactus buds, feathered with pink curving petals.
Shy flamingos sparsely shelter in thick, darkly unassuming leaves.
Sun sets, ushering in the cooling desert dawn,
The Queen’s one chance at immortality.
Happier
Happier…Powerless
More than powerless: feckless. More than feckless: foolish.
Not foolish: mere spot on a distant edge of
Valley of the Trolls 