The Gleewoman's Notes

The word "cloud" is a poem, just like the clouds themselves are. I think they may be nearly impossible to gaze upon without resort...

In the places where ghosts might be sleeping, it is good to bring gifts. We brought bishop pine pollen and shook it, yellow veils that coul...

This autumn has felt every bit as abundant as the fall of acorns from the oak trees, and only this year have I finally learned to turn th...