Riding through naked Aspens,
Moonlight bark a pale requiem for fallen leaves.
The only life left
In the evergreen pines.
Midnight hide, sinew & bone
Flexing beneath
Taking me home.
Chuffing nostrils...
Cold steam rising in the night.
A creak of leather saddle...
and sheepskin curled against my neck
I believe it. That means it's good.
I most often write in rhyme, which makes me admire those who write a good poem without rhyming. The picture's a good fit, too!
Welcome to Authors' Den...I hope you will enjoy the experience of being here.
There are a few like you. Those who sleeping at a campfire with a horse tethered close by thinking off a golden haired woman he was too bashful to speak to.
This collection of poetry addresses the nature of time, reflections on the natural world, the difficulty of loss,
contemporary social issues and gratitude for life.
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I most often write in rhyme, which makes me admire those who write a good poem without rhyming. The picture's a good fit, too!
Welcome to Authors' Den...I hope you will enjoy the experience of being here.
Connie
I really enjoyed this. Here's hoping all is well at your camp.
Buffle Canard