The sound of coffee dripping in the glass carafe. The smell of chopped cilantro and minced garlic. The sizzle of oil poured into a jar of chillies. The shriek of a crow. The sheer gauze of a curtain blowing open a memory. The silence that means a battery is dead. The serenade of. yellow made by lemons in a bowl.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.