I recently “came out of the closet” to the rest of the executive team at R3 that I write poetry occasionally. Here’s a piece I wrote last spring for Beyond LiteracyLink’s Spring Symphony. The image was a part of that gallery.
Passage
Southern spring is a non sequitur,
winter barely a whisper.
But the girl child and I know
it is our time.
Time for mud and woods
and dust and sand
and things that need not be said
to others.
It is our time.