Latest Posts
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Winter’s Surrender
She drifts through clouds in rolling silk, to tease the Old Man’s frozen heart; her sunset breath, like honeyed milk, tears his silvered world apart. Upon the lake, her pearly glow seduces ice to liquid fire; he clings to frost… Continue reading
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Gentle Charm
Where the road bends soft and slow, she stands in the afternoon glow. Worn with gentle hometown charm, quiet days in her wooden calm… Continue reading
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Forest’s Fading Light
Deep in the forest, void of sight, a fragile branch holds fading light. Its final leaves in amber glow, catch golden whispers drifting low… Continue reading
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Beyond the Cannon’s Breath
In golden light of evening blaze, the old sentry meets our gaze. From cannon’s breath and bitter fray, to Pataskala’s peaceful quiet way. He catches fire in the evening sun, a soldier’s watch that’s never done. Carved in stone for… Continue reading
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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
Everything Tells A Story... 