by Abbe Rolnick | Apr 20, 2016 | Abbe's Notes
Mornings spoken, the language of birds awaken with the sun. Layered shades of green, dark with new light. The aroma of brewed coffee topped with steamed milk. Dressed in summer fare, I step out into the dawn of day. ~Abbe
by Abbe Rolnick | Apr 14, 2016 | Abbe's Notes
I want to write where you are and how you feel, yet I don’t really know. So I make up a story. I observe. I love. Hold my hand so I can read the curve of your palm. ~Abbe
by Abbe Rolnick | Apr 4, 2016 | Abbe's Notes
Deep breath. Taking in the smells of wild gardens. Decisions about life. Whiffs of worn dirt. Plow. Poem not completed. ~Abbe
by Abbe Rolnick | Mar 30, 2016 | Abbe's Notes
June 15, 2015 Your birthday weekend. Green jungles, lush love. When I’m 64, will you still love me… The question ponders physical change, the process of aging. The question ponders hope, the assurance of love’s endurance. The question ponders the future mixed in with...
by Abbe Rolnick | Mar 23, 2016 | Abbe's Notes
June 17, 2015 Que sera sera. I’ve got the whole world in my hands. I’ve got you Babe. I hear the bugler play, “You’ve got to get up in the morning”. Old songs, new meanings. My father would tell me Navy stories. His life seemed so significant. His impressions became...
