Walking the River Trail at Dusk Under a gray-blue sky, the gray-white webs in the gray-green pines, like the gray-brown leaves underneath my feet, POP with color I rarely see.
I’ve been writing a poem a day since December 1st, though I’ve only posted a few. Most are still in progress. They begin as observations and grow into poem-fragments, and eventually become poems. Here is an observation-fragment from a recent walk. Painted with yolk-yellow sunshine, the forsythia blooms drip their excess onto the daffodils… Read More
My own photograph of the crane dancing right before his feeding didn’t turn out, but here is the poem I wrote afterward. The crane reminded me so much of my nephew sneaking up on my mother, it made me laugh. Dancing Before Dinner The crane moves to the rhythms of a wild orchestra only he… Read More