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There's always
time for now
the way there's always water
in a nearby stream
and thirst cupped in the hands.
Tracks in the
snow:
their edges rise
and round, and disappear.
Something has passed.
Imaginary fields
of laughter, and
grass
that waves in a steady breeze,
that flows and remains.
~By JB Mulligan
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JBMulligan
is married with three grown children. He has published poems and stories in dozens of magazines, including Adagio Verse
Quarterly, The Ghazal Page, Riversedge, Kaleidowhirl, and Terrain.org, as well as two chapbooks: The Stations of the
Cross and THIS WAY TO THE EGRESS (Samisdat Press). He has also had work published in the recent anthology
called Inside Out: A Gathering of Poets, which can be ordered here.
Read the next artist!
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