Seasons Prose Poems

The moonbroch is quite pronounced tonight—rain can’t be far off. It will be good for the vegetable garden and save my back from having to...

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In the realm of moons and breathless tides,
where promises dance with a serendipitous sonnet of sunrises,
along with morning kisses, unfolds a love story—
a poetic novel...

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At last, I pause at eventide to take rest 
amidst the shadows of the setting sun.
 
And as I watch I cannot help but ponder…
what...

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The morning air to which I have awoken 
whispers softly upon me, the subtle signs of change.

For the aroma of distant fire has joined the...

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Absorb season, in exact time,
Some trees absorb water and food
About six weeks later, all deciduous fruit trees
Show their cute flowers, clear spring
Then, later on fruits...

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The land lies
Chilled and stilled.
Whether flatlands
Or rolling hills.

Damp, cold, and alone;
She doesn't feel at home.

It's hard to feel at home
Where warmth and purpose seem
To be...

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Writing in the light of Spring

Inspired by an Angel's wing

The things I see are meant to be

A prose or poetry thing

Writing in the Summer sun

When...

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There is an illusion of dishonesty in darkness,
so we rejoice when spring sings saccharine serenades.
I've always been a soul yearning for summer scents,
but somewhere the...

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Rest assured wisdom is found within the act of hibernation. Regeneration 
of the Alls creation is to be sought with none around. Removing the sounds
&...

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This is what winter brings.
Depressions vines climbing its way back across the mind.
Fleetingly vamping across acres of its inner shell.
Cutting all the warmth that was...

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Mark Twain on a visit to the Holy Land in 1867 described “A land that is desolate and 
Devoid of both vegetation and human population.”...

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Four Cafes

Winter mists swirl up from puddles on the cobblestones blurring the names of the four cafes facing the narrow boulevard.  Townspeople and visitors...

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So, what does Nature
and Her Winter suggest?

that death is but a sleep
before a refreshing showery
sunny new awakening

that each resting kernel of being
is a blossom again...

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The memories of the Elders had grown weak as time and seasons past.  Like old pastures remembering only faint hoof marks.

	Twelve villages shared the...

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** From Moon to Clover **

I say,”Do not!” live every  day 
As if it were our last day,” like some advise.
For tears will flow...

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