OPTIONAL POETRY

// Berceuse // The small dog got her hackles up before the owl lit on the roof a small soft sound like a slide of dirt outside in the open stretch of night its compatriot hoo-ed and we argued over stars this is arcturus or is it mars? I was wrong; dry air, water in my eyes, the largesse  of sky cradled in these dry grass hills– the town, the hour, everything stilled, even the tumult […]