There's a hole in the pond
into which the sky falls
into which the sky falls most days
and the secrets that sink
to the bottom of that well
shimmer with an iridescent glaze
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The Leaf is a Metaphor
The glorious bronze Sycamore leaf departed from her home in the trees in mid-November She was not the first leaf to leave* so to speak and s...
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A lonesome heron wading in a lake of gold a peaceful sunset He awoke in a wildern wood cool in the morning air and wan... -
With winter winding away With the last of the beech leaves still clinging to their trees like hopeful ghosts With a few golde... -
The creek was dark beneath the canopy of trees save for one shaft of sun that lit the stream there like gold I could see on...
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