…parked on Sasamat street off of West 10th Ave, would be the bubble gum-pink bookmobile…

Hands clasped on her breast, long hair flowing back from her brow…

…Northern Lights leaping in the cold, drowning the stars…

…bespattered with tomato sauce and chocolate…

Remembering COVID times. No jet streaks in the sky.

Sprinkled amongst snowdrops and ferns, dainty crocuses demurely reveal their treasure.

One day I sat upon a weathered seaside bench. My friend sat the approved distance beside me…

fat as cannoli oozing whipped cream, today's container ships wallow…

There is an Amish proverb ….

Parry, thrust, riposte! The duellers evade each other’s slender foils…

The surgical incision into the chest angles slightly upward, avoiding pleura, pericardium, major arteries and veins. The sternum is revealed, then cut vertically down the middle. Beneath beats the heart, sturdy but small; the size of a fist.

Tiny purple violets decorate my square white hankie…

If you were a bumblebee, backside hanging out of a foxglove’s purple trumpet…

The fat, raspberries-in-ice cream ones, like beestung lips…

Snowdrops, crocuses, daffodils, struggling up through frozen dirt…