Late last night, the angel in the backyard
spread his wings and nearly spoke.
Today, all that’s left is an odd pattern
where the world is melting beneath my window,
as if the barn spent all evening practicing
snow angels on the ground.
Late last night, the angel in the backyard
spread his wings and nearly spoke.
Today, all that’s left is an odd pattern
where the world is melting beneath my window,
as if the barn spent all evening practicing
snow angels on the ground.
One Poet's Writing Practice
Photographer of Life in North TX & points beyond
Prompting new poems for Red Wolf Journal
A Poetry Practice
Living in the moment
Photographing the rainbow of life
where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry
