Steady trunk standing so effortlessly in tree pose.
Above, green shadows,
the sound like water, but not,
like whispering, but not,
this sound that is only itself—
leaves saying something to the sky
or to each other
or to us.
Steady trunk standing so effortlessly in tree pose.
Above, green shadows,
the sound like water, but not,
like whispering, but not,
this sound that is only itself—
leaves saying something to the sky
or to each other
or to us.
custom poems on vintage typewriters
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
where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry
