Last night's storm winds have cleared the trees, blown free the leaves, and still this morning, as the winds take leave, I can hear branches groaning and moaning about the loss of cover, like a blanket, stolen, from a spurned lover
A place to gather words before they get lost.
Last night's storm winds have cleared the trees, blown free the leaves, and still this morning, as the winds take leave, I can hear branches groaning and moaning about the loss of cover, like a blanket, stolen, from a spurned lover
Walk a foggy morn as if you're inside a haze of rain clouds, dancing
A maudlin feeling descends, like a leaf falling from a changing tree
Desolate roadways, frustrated navigation; it's isolation
Each morning, with coffee, I open the web I avoid the news, and find the Create instead I read it and ponder - remix and yonder - and spend the day with the art in my head
for #ds106
A stand of Pines groan with the full weight of the wind; roots keep them anchored
Surface tension: A leaf in dance with water, listening
Well within the Wood, the coolness of the old Pines provides us reprieve
Trees become artists: they're painting summer grass with dollops of color
for Algot
We're hard-pressed to halt the sun and the moon singing together, each day