This month, I’m writing words and posting images relating to the landscape of memory. I hope to write poems most days and also share photos,

Loving and Leaving them for 30 years
This month, I’m writing words and posting images relating to the landscape of memory. I hope to write poems most days and also share photos,
“A dead hydrangea is as intricate and lovely as one in bloom. Bleak sky is as seductive as sunshine, miniature orange trees without blossom or
“Brown cliffs with deep green lakes in the hollows, flat blade-like trees that waved from root to tip, round boulders of grey stone, vast crumpled
“Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves
“She had never known that ice could take on so many shades of blue: sharp lines of indigo like the deepest sea, aquamarine shadows, even
“Earth has not anything to show more fair, and you’d have to be dead inside not to feel something— but what, exactly? There are scholars