“The willow tree”
The willow trees Old poet told the girl. We must try to go back to where we were, if we can. The bright eyed girl asked with wonder, dear poet, I come to… Continue reading
Daily Archive: January 24, 2020
The liar’s moon
Liar’s moon A Poem by Coyote Poetry Some new words. The liar’s moon The Coyote was quiet tonight, tranquil night allowed him to recede… Continue reading
Tribe
Originally posted on Bottled Metaphors:
I wish I was a tribe With the red skin That peel off every season To bloom flowers Which drank the stream water To sing like a woodpecker…