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Eighteen winter poems ago, Snow. I admit now to lying however. What winter poem would sell without that sort of weather. Here now at ten and nine, No...

whimsy dawn to day

One could go to his office with a problem anytime. It was correspondence university so there weren't too many students to be a bother. You could ask...

“I couldn’t cope if you weren’t coming in, so I know you love me”. … Comes Covid … Will she understand, she can’t hear … a letter ‘big print’ – she loves to read with her one partly working eye if it’s ‘big print’ … accepted as us still visiting, loving. … a new ‘episode’ received every two or three days …

Overhead hazy brightness partially fulfilled, sails on leisurely breezes, hardly prismatic...only faint rays in pearls, sunrise dew drops detaching...

A moment in time.

waltz with me dressed in christmas lights a soft sentiment found on a screen the clever words of another immediately it formed as a wish prised out...

Still some smoke coming from the puddle??? Maybe not... Image adapted from one at pixhere.com: no known copyright issues.