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Why Worry.

We sit on vast tectonic plates

equivalent in thickness to the skin of an apple.

Beneath,

a vast pool of molten rock,

Magma so hot it burns

clear through the Earth’s crust

up to the surface.

Volcanoes erupt.

Did you hear me?

The skin of an apple determines our fate.

We are powerless: we tread on the filament

of a spider’s web.

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Writer and Poet

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Tricia McCallum

Always be a poet. Even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire.

In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]

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Tricia McCallum

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