I had known you for twenty years, but in ten months, I learned I didn’t know you at all.
Writer and creative. Some stories develop over long periods of time in snippets of peeks & prejudices. Glimpses & tweets. I tweet stories.
What are you still doing there? All the others are gone, because, by now, by midwinter, the leaves fall, every last leaf.
It's confusing, you know?
I thought you were a finch, a sparrow.
I watched for the tail to fan, maybe a ruffle of
The Last Leaf https://www.pennienichols.com/stories-poems/last-leaf/
Dear Mom, It's raining today.
Three years ago, you would have called me just to ask, "Is the water hollow up in your yard?"
And that pop up river is flowing through the field behind my house.