By Keith Burton i was stretching my legs on the littoralgiving names to the shapes of the cloudsthat swam across the lake’s reflectionwhen trouble came crawling on eight legs. help me across he asked with a period. i knew better; i had an owl’s acuity.no can do, i know you…
by Eleanore Lee A yellow mist floats along the rim of the far hill. In the dawning spring it sprang up by itself. We didn’t notice it happening. It just appeared. Up close the juicy little leaves look like clover, But they’re not. The sparkling blossoms small and brilliant. No…