Needlepoint Night
When we were in Montana my friend’s roommate was working on needlework as a component of her art, and seeing it reminded me of how much I enjoy needlepoint. I took part of a poem by Pablo Neruda as inspiration: “. . . –…
Snowbound
Walking in snoweverything in sepiaheavy skies mute colors The feeder is empty –birds sit fat on icy limbswaiting for seeds Branches bent lowsnow piled in drifts belowalmost meeting The lights are out nowdid I say we never lose power?that’s twice this winter
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