I walk on redwoods,
mountains, paths
cutting into forest.
Outside the trees
I find endless fog–
the ocean, splintered wood.
The railroad has no destination here.
(originally published in The Literary Yard, Spring 2020)
I walk on redwoods,
mountains, paths
cutting into forest.
Outside the trees
I find endless fog–
the ocean, splintered wood.
The railroad has no destination here.
(originally published in The Literary Yard, Spring 2020)