Plaintive, silent moss that exists but for a balance between water and light: Can we appreciate it for what it is and ever stop rearranging things?
war
Morning sky drawn in sidewalk chalk
Passage from Dover to Dunkirk, via Reims, to southern Germany Past the old vicarage down the hill in time for the last of the owls, bending at the bottom through a valley to the lake for disabled anglers — No… Read More ›
The coin of the realm
It twists and shifts with the pace of a Rube Goldberg machine, drops men from boats to dangle in the sky, forest green figurines crouching, aiming, leaping — heroes in the minds of boys, heroes in living form some call sacrifice. A plastic American… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 