Brian Crock
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Before the Snow
Her path of gold, a sunlit floor, of autumn days that came before. I walk these woods of rust and light, before the winter turns the morning white… Continue reading
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Standing Through Time
Silent beneath a crisp blue sky, she watches the seasons gently drifting by… Continue reading
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Echoes of Autumn Light
I watch the drifts through frozen glass, and miss her light on autumn grass. In November’s gold, she used to glow, a cool, crisp breath before the snow. Now winter reigns in silent white, while I crave the ghost of… Continue reading
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Stitched in Shadows
She greets the day in December’s brittle gleam, old boards aglow in morning’s quiet beam. Tree shadows lace her sides in ashen gray, while winter-bleached grass waits where autumn slipped away… Continue reading
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Embers in the Cold
Slipping low, she pours her fire into the cold, molten orange fading, rich and bold. Clouds catch embers, ash-soft, warm and slow, and winter keeps the secret of her glow… Continue reading
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Ohio’s Edge at Dusk
At dusk the path hugs Ohio’s side, where golden lamps and shadows glide. She drifts along, both dark and deep, with secrets that the currents keep. Through quiet bends and silvered glow, she carries ghosts of long ago; the steamboats… Continue reading
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In the Margins of Morning
She stands still where the air softens, black ink on a page of pale light; her branches trace the quiet shape, to tell a story she hopes to write… Continue reading
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Where Winter Colors Fade
She stands weathered against the cold, as amber clouds flare and fade, blending winter blue into soft purple shade… Continue reading
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Quiet Flame at Dusk
She leans low, a quiet flame, peeking through trees turned dark and still; light slips between their shadowed frames, soft gold surrendering to evening’s will…. Continue reading
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The Porch Light Hour
The sidewalk rests beneath the fading day, small-town lights glow warm along the way. Porch lamps bloom where soft shadows stay, a quiet pause where evenings gently play… Continue reading
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Road Leads
The road runs west where daylight bends, gold lingers soft where evening ends… Continue reading
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Carries River’s Past
She waits where the river chooses to slow, stone-set grace in patient flow. Her walls remember gears and hand, the careful rise, the soft command. Though voices fade and years move on, she holds the past and carries on… Built… Continue reading
Everything Tells A Story... 