Weeds and Wildflowers

This grey morning, early, Eyes open to a hillock   Covered in sage and gorse, Small white succulents dotting  The dusty ground,  ...

For a reason I don’t quite understand I threw old terrors to the sky,  I read about all the sciences I read about the fears and phobi...

I’m packing for this long journey,  Knowing there will always be one constant: Salvation.  Do we run out of time? I turn to face a ...

Out in the near dark I hear The clink of the old coffee can,  He slings goats’ grain and pellets, Checks their water on his way  To ...

Potatoes and apples, An unexpected mix,  Old logic returns, brother Explained on one of those  Long days ago, You just make it ...

The first time I saw Italy We’d driven in our English car, debarking from The ferry in Roscov, French northern port, and Down through...