When the first cold wind
finds it way to your bones,
welcome your old friend.
Has there ever been
a better time for poems
than winter’s holding?
diptych
A rolling stone gathers no moss. But I'm all about that moss.
A rolling stone gathers no moss. But I'm all about that moss.
When the first cold wind
finds it way to your bones,
welcome your old friend.
Has there ever been
a better time for poems
than winter’s holding?
