Come September, I feel the planet slip on its axis. There is a perceptible shift in the light-dark balance as the slider moves to the left. Inside, on the shoreline of my heart, the waves start to break more slowly and shadows lengthen to embrace me in their conspiracy with the autumn skies. Advertisements
National Poetry Writing Month – Day 25 Some sadnesses are beyond the reach of therapy; craters that no amount of love can fill, an emotional landscape as alien as the moon.