first light this morning
flows in like molten silver
a distant bell chimes
first light this morning
flows in like molten silver
a distant bell chimes
pastel painted sky
the soft crunch of passing feet
a nip in the air
over the Earth’s rim
a tentative sun peeps out
women clear rubble
as the leaves darken
sun assumes its autumn stance
oblique shadows fall
our garden birds hush
a kite, its long-fingered wings
playing a thermal
butterflies dance while
wrens flit ’round a dripping tap
vying for a sip
a few drops of rain
outside I remain seated
letting thoughts refresh
one dark cloud lingers
in blue skies above the house
casts a long shadow
three little ducklings
our meeting interrupted
we scatter some crumbs
last night the moon
a slice of watermelon
almost within reach
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