The Park

by Tammy T. Stone

concrete spillage
allowing for no
mighty flowers
to peek through and
rise straight to sun
dumpster flower pots
instead
plastic brocade
plants tended to with
minute care
in this barren space
maybe early
in the morning
maybe by elderly
volunteers
pressing ever forward
in strong constitution
maybe with tweezers,
even, so as not
to miss a thing
the plants in
this here and
this now a mystery
save their
earthly
origins

Mysterious shrines

by Tammy T. Stone

Mysterious shrines
In forest
Gods making
Their own light
We spend our lives
Trying to discover

Lines

by Tammy T. Stone

The river carrying
Sounds of self, inviting
Witness.