Winter’s Burdern

The coats of glistening white arms…

bitter breaths, loosing charm.

Tapped buckets of luck

running in place on  lakes of thin ice.

From fragile to frigid

cynicism’s roll of the dice.

Oh, the burden of quaint to acquainted New Hampshire towns.

Of the visitors who come but never go.

Of permanent villagers affixed in a murky modest snow.

Rumor has it…

IT takes a village to pillage



Rumor has it

Mother has gone asunder…

leaving room for doubtful wonder.

Gag Order

rumors 8

rumor 4

‘If everyone took time each

morning to air their own

dirty laundry.  We’d all be

walking ’round in our

birthday suits come


Gag Order...