Poet's Journal

Journal Entries

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Washboard Road

This rutted track with pot holes and cuts, makes for rough travel. Perhaps I should have chosen a shorter course, taken the highway. Out on

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Keeping Faith

Low clouds cross the valley in a dry southerly wind, the sun an occasional guest during months of rain feeding glaciers, mountain rivers, vast estuaries

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Country Roads

When I think of America, the US that is, I think of John Denver and Country Roads. And just to show how out of touch

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Grace to Her Becoming

Beneath the weight of snow the Earth rests but does not sleep. In root and caves beyond number tribes of spring begin to drum, waters

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Winter Well

South the sun rises on winter mornings, slanted low in bright light and pale orange. Trees sleep in rooted beds, the sky left to crows.

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Poems