Three Walks with Pipes
Three times a day, we crossed the shore — Pipes kept rhythm near my feet, dancing the edge of every…
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Three times a day, we crossed the shore — Pipes kept rhythm near my feet, dancing the edge of every…
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I stand before the storm within, a tide of dread that rises fast.
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In the moonlit bay I stand, My conscience casts a shade, Cold waves revise my plan, Old debts demand be…
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In the hush where waters meet the land, A symphony soft and grand. Muddy waves, in gentle play,
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Featured poem: Whispers by the Watermill. A new piece from The Rustic Poet collection.
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In the quiet shadows of the soul, Pain and sorrow often take their toll.
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Beneath the vast New Mexico skies, Where clouds like cotton softly rise.
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Palm fronds bend above warm sand. Blue swells break with steady grace. Jaco breathes through surf and trade.
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