Kimmy Sophia Brown
Cold Day
The tips of trees on a pale winter sky
are like broken capillaries on a sad old face, they
feather out against smudgy clouds
on a black hill more
A Day Off
I poured a bowl of kitty kibble
outside my room upstairs.
Throughout the night
I woke to crunching,  more
The Time Signature of Night
The crickets sing their evening chord
the levels of their throats
what note
is that? more
The Scent of a Lady Bug
Really? I said, they have a scent?
Yes, said my son,
they smell sort of like fireflies.
Who could imagine that? more
Thinking of Mom on her 96th birthday
~ August 9, 1922 ~
Watching My Dog Die
She was fine.
Okay, a bit lame,
but her old fiesty self . . .  more
Last Bite
As has been our long time tradition
I leave the last bite for you.
As I finish a meal I look for you . . . more
Dog Hair
If you visited my house 
you could never leave 
without dog hair . . . more
There's nothing new about
being drunk on fragrance,
but I wonder,
as I stand beneath
the heavy lilac blossoms . . . more
When I was little
driving home with my parents
I loved to look in yellow-lit windows, more