Brian Crock
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Autumn’s Golden Isle
Cradled in November’s evening light, the golden isle ascends in gleaming flight. A tender dream through twilight’s stream, shimmering on still waters, soft as night… Continue reading
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November’s Glow
She leans softly against the fading horizon, stroking chilled air with a last warm whisper of autumn’s heart… When you live in Ohio, November typically doesn’t glow… it mostly just grumbles and throws cold rain at your face! 😂 But… Continue reading
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Beneath the Veil
The world sighs beneath her silver veil, where light and shadow weave their tale… Continue reading
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Pretty in Pink
When you’re a rough and tough farm girl, but still want your tractor to match your nail polish… Continue reading
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Autumn’s Golden Waltz
Rhythmic beauty flows with ease, whispering warmth upon the breeze. A gentle pulse, a fleeting sigh, before the chill of soft goodbye… Continue reading
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Summer Memories
Blushing beneath the day’s golden embrace, she embodies summer’s pulse—whispering memories of green and gentle breeze… Continue reading
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Ghostly Silhouettes
Her ghostly branches quake and creak, with secrets the night dares not speak… Happy Halloween! 👻🎃 Continue reading
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Elegance at Rest
Beneath the hangar glow, she rests—a vision of grace and luxury wrapped in polished aluminum and quiet strength… Continue reading
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Twilight’s Waltz
Dancing on heaven’s edge, day and night in twilight’s hold, each step a soft flame in crimson bold. For one breathless moment, time surrenders its endeavor, they meld into forever… Continue reading
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Beyond the Blue
Piercing the boundless sky, she reaches upward in humble prayer… I found this little gem by accident while searching out a field of flowers. I love how she looks in the evening light! Continue reading
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Crimson Veil
The sky bleeds with twilight’s last trembling breath, as streaks of crimson drift like wandering spirits—restless, untamed, haunted—beneath the fading tapestry of dusk… Continue reading
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Where Thistles Lean
In twilight’s hush, where embers flow, two thistles sway as soft winds blow. Though thorns may crown their slender frame, they cling as one, through joy and flame. Their edges gleam, their spines defend, yet heart to heart, their roots… Continue reading
Everything Tells A Story... 