In this decayed hole among the mountainsIn the faint moonlight, the grass is singingOver the tumbled graves, about the chapelThere is the empty chapel, only the wind’s homeit has no windows, and the door swingsdry bones can harm no one … Continue reading
“Just a minute, said a voice in the weeds.” So I stood still in the day’s exquisite morning light. – Mary Oliver
Most feathered friends have taken off in flocks heading south by now. I read this poem and thought of them…wish I were in their feathers right about now, weary, tender and happy to be soaring with friends sans regrets to … Continue reading
Some days I feel I need to be a soldier and other days I know what I need to be, but I choose to be a poet. Some days we need to hear things more melodiously. Coerced into a space … Continue reading
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