Fear is rain,
a promise: of no uncovered inches,
of smothered masses.
...
Steam rises through a sidewalk grill,
manifesting itself in the frigid winter air
like a
...
Feathers
the color of an azure sky,
speckles spread across her wings,
a crown atop her head,
...
combing woods on a winter afternoon
snow lies dense, bending boughs of spruce
and fir and pine
...
At first, the telltale signs were few and inconsistent-
a momentary shortness of breath; a dry, unproductive cough;
quick, stabbing pains like split-second jolts of electricity-
nothing to indicate the destruction developing inside his chest.
...
I dream of a wood
where the white birches grow,
where my steps, as I wander,
become shortened and slow;
...