Hammock: A Poem

From my hammock. I hear the crickets, and the crash of waves on the shore. I must leave my hammock, and go inside. To my bed once more.

Gardening

As I dig with bare hands; black and swarthy from the compost bin. And fill the bucket that, I then carry. I find a worm. I remember my mother telling me, that worms enrich soil. I must have been three years old. I have not remembered this before. Yet I do so now, as I... Continue Reading →

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