First Kiss
I’ll never forget / that empty barn / smell of dry hay / those long columns / of dusty light.
April 25, 2018
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I’ll never forget / that empty barn / smell of dry hay / those long columns / of dusty light.
In a buzzing morning meadow / when the sun was not yet high / I thought I saw a man-cloud / walking in the sky.
we walk on our hands / lazing in shallow surf / like a bunch of sea sloths / or slow-motion manatees
I found a little rainbow / trapped in a chunk of ice. / Iced rainbows are seldom seen: / I don’t expect to see one twice.
Nothing about me is very speedy. / Mixing? Pouring? Drying? / Slow, slow, slow. / That’s how I go.
I saw a list of the ten most beautiful words in the English language …
My father, Ralph Fletcher, passed away on November 25, 2017. In honor of his death I wanted to share this piece of writing.
How about an el drinko? / my uncle asks first thing / when he shows up.
We were at Corbett National Park in the foothills of the Himalayas, in India. On the second day we did a safari where our guide explained we had a “chance” to see a wild tiger.
The last time I bump into Don Murrray / his 83 year old hands were long, / white, blue-veined, tremulous / but strong when we shook hands.