Tag Archives: still writing about the moon

Next to the Oldest Oak Tree 

That’s where they gather the most, the mossand the moments that remind them they’re free.  There are three small pines where they’ve cast their shoes. Here they pause to remember their past.  And then there’s the moon. Eyes and swords skyward,they whisper thank you to stars, and know … Continue reading

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moon bare and blue

magnetic poetry 

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