Almost Haiku: Ninety-Eight

Shovel strikes hard summer soil beneath a fainting sun— young dog’s resting place.

About a Chaffinch

I was strolling barefoot through the garden Thinking about what to write to you this week When I came upon a fallen chaffinch, Under a withered rosebush. Had I not been minding my toes through the grass, I would have not seen it. Such are most men - tall enough not to look down as … Continue reading About a Chaffinch