dressing for the cold
my favourite green sweater
the one with the darn
dressing for the cold
my favourite green sweater
the one with the darn
no chorus this morn
the sun casts an icy stare
on still-sleeping birds
the first blaze of dawn
burnt orange and azure blue
belie winter’s chill
hailstones pattering
fingers trying to keep pace
dance over the keys
for a moment I
hold my hand to the windshield
to watch the ice melt
skulking in the dark
at the edge of consciousness
some forgotten thing
how welcome the dawn
routing the darkest shadows
of a sleepless night
a halted journey
winter’s sorrowful tears fall
water on the track
deep concentration
he sets out panels, nuts, bolts
all in their right place
with time on his hands
he builds an old iron train
for his next journey
Musings from an insignificant writer
more that just a path
A Journal of Poetic Observations
Pictures and Poetry, Picture Poetry
My Journey on the Lonely Road to Deaf Acceptance
Ellen Grace Olinger
Just words and more words, as they come of their own accord.
Rivers and Rural Communities : ँ : at the Heart of Travel
A Greek Matinee: my manuscript. . . Tattlings, Scribblings, Brain Expanding, Bits & Bobs as Summer rolls on