Crows & Swallows

Promises... 


This small book of poems started with a promise to myself back in the spring of 2017 to simply and stubbornly make the time to write fifty poems before the sweep of fall took the time from me. As with most poets, I made more chips than I did firewood, but some bolts survived to stack and save for this wispy fire.


These are those poems. No doubt, it seems I stole the style and spirit of poetry from Emily Dickinson, for I am seldom without some influence guiding the shape of my words. Her garret window is my back porch, but our worlds are much the same: centered on family, friends and whatever vistas the head and heart may hold.  It would be grace if even one of my poems holds the power of any one of her’s.


As I write this, the leaves are stripping away from the warm cloak of summer and these poems are now as bare and weathered as they will be. 


And no longer my own, but yours.


Thanks for reading,


~Fitz


October 17, 2017