Crowswrite

Hello, After a decade of poems, and essays (some 430!), Crowswrite is going on hiatus.  I have recently discovered that any writing previou...

I can hear it. The drumming and hammering Upon a rotted-out branch. Perhaps there is a juicy grub? Or maybe the need to reach out to its...

The sailor sets off Letting the tide run As sailors always have Pointing the bow into the horizon Which then becomes his destination. ...

What makes you happy? What cup of steaming morning brew What weathered hand gently held What nubile leaf or garden sprout What laugh cas...

Rabbit Reverie I can’t help but wonder Coffee in hand What the whitetail thinks. Submerged in a patch of hop clover Sharing it with th...

  I know there is a bear out there Although I have never seen it. My part-time inner sleuth Has been busily sifting through the clues Ev...