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Beagle
DUST It takes thirty years to accumulate an inch of soil. If you stood still, stopped moving right now, what year would it be when you disappeared under dirt? With every breath we breathe in... More »
Beagle
DIRT AND SNOW AND LIGHT This morning the dirt I kicked into the pond fell through the water like dry snow. Now, snow falls—quarter-sized flakes slushing the water’s surface. Somewhere past the snow the sun... More »
Beagle
April is National Poetry Month. So here is another poem to keep with that theme. DUST If it takes thirty years to accumulate an inch of soil and if you stood still, stopped moving right... More »
Beagle
I wonder what it is about being human that makes me want to do something with my life that matters, something that makes a mark on the world in my brief time here, something that... More »
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