
4/8/19
Oil slicks float on puddles
rainbow washing
their raindrop rippled
surfaces
while a cardinal calls
from the dark
wet pines.
© Erik Hansen 2019

4/8/19
Oil slicks float on puddles
rainbow washing
their raindrop rippled
surfaces
while a cardinal calls
from the dark
wet pines.
© Erik Hansen 2019
Filed under Edges

4/7/19
The scent of fresh turned soil
decomposing leaves
markers of spring
points the clouds
to warmer days
lying on your back
on some sun warmed hillside
without a care in the world.
© Erik Hansen 2019
Filed under American, Contemporary, Creative Writing, Edges, Literature, Poetry, Publishing, Self Publishing, Writing

4/6/19
A skulking hawk flees
a local band of blue jays
fierce in their numbers.
© Erik Hansen 2019
Filed under Edges

4/5/19
Letters, bills,
cards and flower catalogs,
addressed to someone
no longer here
simple reminders bring on tears
the absence a hole
the missing piece
a human form.
© Erik Hansen 2019
Filed under Edges

4/4/19
Cold spring wind reminds
you should have worn a hat
it blows winters’ detritus
from the new blooms
that have mustered the courage
to rise up.
© Erik Hansen 2019
Filed under American, Contemporary, Creative Writing, Edges, outdoors, Poetry, Publishing, Self Publishing, Writing

Half Life
These parched wastes dry slowly
this wasteland’s orange sky
births fallout
its ash dusts the sands
with poison snow
that feed lakes of mercury
thirsty
for the isotope laden rain
scratch me a symbol
upon a cinder block
that makes up this
broken, leaning half-wall
this half-life
we half-struggle through
rust caked, shambling
dreaming monochromatic dreams.
© Erik Hansen 2019
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Publishing, Self Publishing, Writing

Frogs call from the swamp,
a hawk soars high in the sky,
crocus break the soil.
© Erik Hansen 2019
Filed under American, Contemporary, Creative Writing, Edges, Literature, outdoors, Poetry, Publishing, Self Publishing, Writing