Poetry
Here, Take my Coat!
Self-compassion.
A Glass Raised to the Unknown
You don’t meet whiskey— you collide with it.
No one tells you the first sip isn’t about taste.
It’s about threshold. It sears before it soothes,
humbles before it welcomes.
The Bird Came Today
The rain came mean, needling through the trees,
slipping into my collar, licking its way down my spine.
I let it take me.
The wooden bench beneath me groaned, heavy with rot,
as