A compiled heap of my poetry, memoirs and personal insights of past and present.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
These are the savory days of Summer's End. The softest breeze blows up from The Sound. Sailboats drift on their last days joy and I The Elusive hiding in shades of dark, under this tree of heavy arms. Mountains in Olympic form float in the distance like a dream and l lean against this tree and catch the sunshine in my lap.