(April is poetry month. New poetry number twenty-six.) I am waiting by the willow tree. An old place near the Clinton River, old willow trees reaching for the sky and the river. It… Continue reading
Under the willow tree. We danced. Once we held love over everything. Love was holy and a joy. Were a blessing and a gift. Now like sleeping flowers in the Winter. The feeble… Continue reading
“Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.” ― Gautama Buddha Heal, not kill The world had turn blood red. Where are the voices of… Continue reading