Aissa Martell

Spoken Word, Music by Robert Miller

In the turning of the wheel of change, there is gold. There is development set in motion, and in this movement rises flickering specks of precious material. An eruption far beneath the surface carries what is forgotten closer for us to inspect, to clean…

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Photo taken by author in Arlington Vermont

OctoColorFest

As I walk the wind blows seemingly endlessly before me. As I reach the elm whose golden flakes dazzled me as they danced on the breeze, just ahead of me, gracefully touch the ground, where I am about to step. The wind is my flower girl, covering the walkway…

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