his vital smile
and untroubled eyes
—enlistment photo
Ryan Stone
Before
Last Light
settling dusk
a boy and his dog
leaping shadows
Ryan Stone
Bloom
In treehouse shadows
Shyly she stepped from her clothes
And I from my youth
Ryan Stone
Petrichor 5-7-5
Her hair smelled of hay,
summer rain and first kisses;
breathless, petrichor.
His fingers trembled
childhood’s last tattoo, across
her pale, arching spine.
Ryan Stone
days of stone 