Every stone on my path
triangle-shaped, like an
arrow pointing,
showing me the way.
I leave them
nestled into the dirt
in case these directions
were meant for
some other walker.
Every stone on my path
triangle-shaped, like an
arrow pointing,
showing me the way.
I leave them
nestled into the dirt
in case these directions
were meant for
some other walker.
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
