In a world of shrivel and wilt
When what we need is seed and sprout
I am neither gather nor grow
I am wither and rot
TDM
In a world of shrivel and wilt
When what we need is seed and sprout
I am neither gather nor grow
I am wither and rot
TDM
If I had a son
I’d name him Jonah
And for the first time I’d be in
Love
With teetering tot
Melting into white cotton
Sheets twisted
around bits of
Twig and sand sprinkled
between the folds of socks
that have slid off of
tiny toes
That I could collect
without disturbing
my love
who
After a long day of
Travelling through backyards
And almost making it over
the swing set is
slow burning
grace
resting gentle
face
TDM