Poetry

Erupt

Erupt From deep beneath the earth's thin skin, A rumble starts, a low, suppressed din. Then fissures yawn, the pressure breaks, And molten rivers, fierce, awaken. Ash clouds billow like dark, triumphant sails, While

Pesky

Pesky little thoughts that tug at my sleeve, Like midges in summer that refuse to leave. They buzz around the kitchen, spoil my tea, Turn a quiet evening into a fussy spree. Yet in

Hunch

A hunch, a whisper in the quiet mind, A flicker of the unseen, half‑formed, half‑blind. It tugs at thoughts like mist upon the Thames, A subtle pull that sways our secret aims.

Which

Which In the hush between two thoughts, the word “which” lingers like a mist, a soft‑spun thread that pulls at the seams of every choice we have yet to make. It

Micro

Micro whispers in the quiet night, Tiny worlds unseen to naked sight. A drop of dew holds galaxies— Each bacterium a star, each spore a dream. In the lab’s hushed glow, the

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