Poetry

the sweet aroma of nature’s bounty overpowers the sense of smell in flavors of hundreds…and the eyes in myriad colors of endless beauty

the sound of bird song fills the air with sweet melodies as they flit from oak to maple and back

nature’s rebirth surrounds me its smells enfold me and awe my senses

stepping off the old wooden porch now worn and weathered, so in need of repair, it is like stepping into the past

so many memories carried within from times well remembered

The Bottom of Your Soul

 This place avoid

At the low rusty ladder

Down the scuttle

To the bottom of your soul

Questions past

the web