Archives: Poem Gallery

Town.
the birds
that peck at earth
the vacant street, the girl
who grooms her horse, the sun
on glints of cars,the scent of winds
passed here

Winters.
fogs have
their secret place,
the peeling shed, the rose
between the thorns, the shade
beside the path,the space that fills
old cars

Daughter.
late mail
from distant lands,
the perfumed page, her joy
inside the words, the towns
along the way, the need to see
still more

Night.
just now
the creaking roof,
the windowed rain, the winds
around the fire, our books
to pass the hours, the sound of her
first yawn