The wind swayed a tall pine back and forth.
The whispers fell like needles into my innermost.
The rain sprayed my spine up and down.
The spit spat cold on my cheek bones.
Strange beauty, sensual mystery.
#WheatheringGod
Poetry, essay, and prose, oh my!
The wind swayed a tall pine back and forth.
The whispers fell like needles into my innermost.
The rain sprayed my spine up and down.
The spit spat cold on my cheek bones.
Strange beauty, sensual mystery.
#WheatheringGod
my first visit. yes, is the word.
Very nice. Hopping over from Glynn Young’s place.
Thanks for your time and thoughts.