I am curled when the last
scab of snow
falls from gray
roof tiles; I am rocking
out this uterine pain
instead of watching out the glass
for the clear-sky rain
Related articles
How are you getting on? small stone Day Twenty-Two(writingourwayhome.com)
Being Human. small stone Day Two.(writingourwayhome.com)
A Warning of the Perils of Praise. small stone Day Four.(writingourwayhome.com)
How to begin. small stone Day One.(writingourwayhome.com)
Borrowing a dog’s happiness (post your small stone here)(writingourwayhome.com)