dogtrax

The air, cold and crisp, belies an August's presence; Autumn elbows in

for Algot

Ink drips in forests - red shimmering among green - each leaf, soon transformed

Branches of ripe pears weighed down by ample sweetness; perfect for plucking

We wrap the bird song around us, like a soft cover of composition

Another day dips its way into horizon; a painted sunset

even a teacher a poet a photographer (an) entity of landscapes explorer father / writer collaborator / musician himself (a) dog, unknown; a songwriter

a dada cut-up poem for #ds106 Daily Create

One small drop of dew, dangling off the softened edge of a rose petal

At twilight, we walk through fields of moonlight and stars; our light clothes, brilliant

Bare arms, shivering - we'll remember for later - this cool morning air

Bird sounds from the trees: winged musicians on a branch take a chance on song

for Algot