The Geologist

by Willow Orton

When I pick out stones
from the gravel in the mid-day sun,
I choose only the smoothest, or the prettiest,
(or the ones with nails driven through them) Continue reading “The Geologist”

Walking with my father

by Alex Scott

There’s something about walking just before sunset,
those moments before the sky has made room for the moon,
when the sinking sun’s edges sharpen around it’s skin
until it looks domed enough to reach out and cup. Continue reading “Walking with my father”