The stream called slowly
and so convincing was she,
I nearly vanished
swept neatly away
as if I were a mem'ry
from a made up story
I am disappeared
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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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