They were travelers, plotting river courses, …
Carol Frost
The dogs eat hoof slivers and lie under the porch. …
The humble sense of being alive …
who line the corridors and sit …
The tortoise walks on tiptoe in June, …
Pushed prow southerly into the golden wind: …
After there were no women, men, and children, …
I …
As a child I parleyed with animals, stuffed and real. …
I have a sister who takes care of animals, whose artistry is flesh …
No more savage art: filleting: a deft pressure along the …
Into the changes of autumn brush …
It was dusk, the light hesitating …
The mourning dove …