Crows By Robert Diamante I prefer my winter hues maudlin; The poetry flows. I prefer the sky cast gray And lighted by the crows.
The Plowman Robert Diamante I work hard every spring To redefine the lines between my lawn and the gravel drive, the sidewalk and the median that spans to the curb: … Read More
On Passing (for J.C.) Years pass, we swerve, we veer, we right ourselves on the road. We pass like years. In all that time we think we are in control. … Read More