Poem Category: Miscellaneous

bitter morning
the see-breaths
I leave home in

clock tower
a dawn stretches
the town turning red

a round white moon
fireflies across the river
move the stars

adding firewood
the scent of the stack
in an early day fog

winter skeletons
the trees of our street
strangers in fog

loud and still
an axe man in the drying dew
about his business

wood bridge
crossing to the sunshine
a workday

our home sold
the Oak tree aging
with less to shade

butterfly book
after she colours one
one arrives

picnic canoe
the Sun is behind
the whoosh of the geese