Shards of Air
Take the mountain chains where the golden plover hasarrived, run your fingers down the grassy green slopes.The shore near the river is green too. Somehow last year’sleaves still hang on in the cracks and crevices; theytremble, they’re awestruck and terrified as the riverchurns. But here in the city, pressed against a wall, allyour features blur and yet somehow the serene… Read more →