My 12/07/25 postcard is a Red Hesperaloe seed pod, its split shell revealing pale interior walls. The outer skin, once a bloom, now shows reds turned to rust and wrinkles like aged parchment. What remains feels sculpted rather than spent; it has already finished its business, but still insists on being seen.
My 12/05/25 postcard is a roadrunner standing on a sunlit sidewalk in Siesta Hills, feathers…
My 12/04/25 postcard is the six-hole at Puerto del Sol, covered in a clean, unbroken…
My 12/03/25 postcard is a cluster of empty drink cans hanging from the bare branches…
The last two cold nights finally shook the trees loose, and the leaves came down…
My 12/01/25 postcard is a flower past its summer bloom, still holding onto threads of…
