Winter peels everything down to its essence. The cottonwood stripped of leaves silhouetted in failing light, wind tumbling the hollow body of a beetle, a golden-crowned sparrow sings a few notes, then silence, like the white spaces in a poem – maybe what’s not written is more important than the words that are left, once language is whittled down to its core.
Patrick Loafman, editor
The Dandelion Farm Review, Winter 2014 