waiting for a friend
standing under the poplars
I feel so small
winter trees ablaze
branches stark on flaming sky
one of nature’s tricks
rows of hills and trees
rise layer upon layer
morning mists drifting
the elm’s signature
fine-cut branches sctratched against
a pale winter sky
I dream so I write ..
“Wings are an illusive notion. Some may possess them, but they are not very visible, and as for me, there isn’t the least sign of a feather.” -Amy Carmichael
New Ideas, New Forms
Musings from an insignificant writer
14 hectares of thrills, spills and fun!
A Journal of Poetic Observations
Pictures and Poetry, Picture Poetry
My Journey on the Lonely Road to Deaf Acceptance
Ellen Grace Olinger
My Eccentric Friend 