When the moon.
The clouds will sing.
A silent nocturne.
Tag: poetry
Drop by drop
Drop by drop
drip by drip
we get released
from winters grip
Seeking Solitude
A day in the forest.
Flowers flowering.
A gentle breeze.
At Forests Edge
Waiting at the forests edge
The valley filled with fog
Go don’t go
In a mile the sun comes out
All alone in the sandhills
Fresh grasses on a burnt land with willows and hills of sand.
Frogs were signing all day long.
The wind blew strong.
Valentine National Wildlife Refugee, NE.
All one
Would a world without words make it easy to see.
The sky and the sun, the rocks and the tree.
Are all just one big thing.
When it becomes clear…
There is time enough to listen to the reflection spoken by a lake.
Alone in the fog
A tree stands on a ridge alone in the fog.
Unfazed by what cannot be changed.
The day goes on.
Photographed with the old black Holga 120N and Kodak Tmax-100iso film.
Bristles
On a quiet beach on a storm-less day dried grasses bristle like the quills on a porcupine.
At Forests Edge
Waiting at the forests edge
The valley filled with fog
Go don’t go
In a mile the sun comes out
