There were wildflowers, yellow and purple, growing wild in the fields. The kind of flowers you would make me pull over for. To take a picture of. Or maybe to pick a few.
Two stops back I thought I saw you in a blue rusted pickup, chewing gum like it was trying to escape your mouth. It wasn’t you, just someone with the same gold hair. Why is everything wild painted yellow?
I think the rain is washing away all memory of you.

Word of the Year-2025
For my 2025 word of the year, I chose COURAGE. I know, it’s not the most original pick—but hear me out. Something about courage stuck with me this time, especially after watching a documentary on The Tragically Hip. For those unfamiliar, they’re kind of a Canadian thing. A band that