William Hazel Writes
Books. Blogs. Travelogues.

Slow down. Read poetry. Sipping Red is now available. I was spilling a Sipping Red series into my social media scroll and felt they deserved a binding. The collection is a mix of those poems with works and words both old and new. The more I write the more I understand what is natural to the flow of my poetry are simple observations of everyday living. The curation became a journal of private slice-of-life meditations. And it turns out I write a lot of poems about coffee. It

Before dawn. Birdsong. Crows rouse earlier than finches this November morning. All night quiet among the branches, then flapping into wakefulness and soon comes an outbreak of life. So much to say as the sun brings the day. Utterances to full calls echo through thick magnolia and crape myrtle branching nude. The trees change shape with limbs waking to the dawn, reaching for each other, like holding hands for help with the work of lifting to the sun. Like us all, quiet and sti

I’m the Boomer and I’m not. Let’s make that clear. Zoomer is a best friend. He recently aged into ordering whatever pleases him with his own ID. The Boomer Zoomer tag is his doing. Since I’m a Boomer and I’m not, I’ve been carrying a quiet resentment these past seven years since he hot ironed the branding shortly after our first meeting. Zoomer is finishing his undergrad these days, so we get together when the opportunity spills. On a chosen shirt stuck to your neck July