When I bite through the bright orange skin of a persimmon, when I feel the faintly sticky trickle down my chin, I am back in Ashikaga. It isn’t just that the first time I tasted the warm, sweet fruit was…
Tag: Autumn
Sunday Small Stone
small signs bolted to brick yellow leaves beneath branches that do not steam like my coffee at the only metal table occupied on the balcony
Sunday Small Stone
the dark mud the red leaves the muffled splash of fall
Sunday Small Stone
red leaves redder than red green leaves greener than green brown leaves lying on the black street sky grayer than gray & air not quite done with the rain
Trees, Changing Seasons & Writing
I’ve already hung jack-o’-lantern lights, and the first good autumn rain is using my walls and roof as its own soft percussion section. Yet from my top-floor flat, I can still see plenty of green leaves. One of these trees,…