May dawn coming—a thin rain falls. I tread a pathin low marsh grass, unsteady in a gust,wondering if you have forgottenour nakedness, frantic like children in the cold,the sun rising beyond the dark woods,the dreams that twist nearer,the splitting apart of our souls.I listen to [...]
Tag: santa cruz writes
‘At Henry Cowell State Park, Early Winter’ Appears in phren-Z Magazine, Winter 2012
In fall,the Big Leaf maples warm in color,and in time will let gotheir dying leaves.By December, the ungiving stalksof the American Sweetgum are bare and still, even in wind.We walk beside the woodyardlate one afternoon,and my mother says, “The leaves are turning on the alders,” and nods.Her skin, the best clock, a sundial in the angled light;I do not know her [...]
Bri Bruce Productions 