There is a new stream
running through an old woods
that I've never stood beside
or set eyes upon
and still
I can feel the cool mist
rising off her timeworn stones
for I'm very nearly there
in my heart
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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... -
The floating leaves strayed from the straight and wrote in cursive across the river's surface. What words were written, ... -
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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