The good news is that I’ve been writing again after my lengthy (or so it feels) and unplanned hiatus. The bad news is that there has been little worth sharing; I don’t seem to bounce back very quickly in any area of my life these days. I tender the following as proof.
a cradle moon hangs low
in the west, shallow horns draped
soft with mist — night’s own child
sleeps there, breath like the slow
churring of cold crickets