Summer Tritina Poems

As a child, I played on the banks of a stream
Snaring crawdads and fetching smooth pebbles,
While my shoes and socks became sopping wet.

Wading in the...

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Morn’s beacon beholds the land
In the chagrin’s lonely hand;
Gray day is hard to withstand.

Until the clouds let it rain;
Evidently bringing pain.
Let the human’s aid remain....

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I see your face before me as I weep
By water's edge, leaves swirling in the wind
Your touch I feel in this, my frozen hand

I reach...

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Through the highlands, you can hear the pipes drone.
Every note, riding on a crisp, morning breeze.
In-between, the piped notes; you hear the drum beats.


I go...

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~They Sing~
(The Tritina)


This morn I seem to hear the warblers sing
And it is one of the loveliest things
To think they build their nests among the...

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