Foraging

Walking the streets I saw from your shoulders in childhood, I remember the important places; I cross them with my feet. The line where the stag beetle trundled before us, gleaming. The patch on the road that held one squashed frog, sun-dried to leather. How sad I was. I respectfully avoid the lords and ladies, […]

What Comes To Hand

Plunging my hand into my bag, hoping for the right set of keys out of three, I find the shriveled conker. Puckered, unlovely, anal. When I stopped in the street to claim its shine it was the radiant sun and all autumn goodness. A charm against spiders. A childhood’s gloating treasure. It was glossy, new […]