Sleeping in the Forest I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly, arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichens and seeds. I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed, nothing between…
Originally posted on Charleston Through an Artist's eye:
We have not even to risk the adventure alone/ for the heroes of all time have gone before us /The labyrinth is thoroughly known/ We have only to follow the thread…
Poet Mary Oliver’s new book of poems, ‘A Thousand Mornings.’ Written by Ray Waddle For The Tennessean When poet Mary Oliver comes out with a new book, I stop and take a look, not only because her poems are often…
For Earth Day. It fills you with the soft essence of vanished flowers, it becomes a trickle sharp as a hair that you follow from the honey pot over the table and out the door and over the ground, and…
Grace Because my grandmother made me the breakfast her mother made her, when I crack the eggs, pat the butter on the toast, and remember the bacon to cast iron, to fork, to plate, to tongue, my great grandmother moves…
This is a repost from November 2, 2010 We have not even to risk the adventure alone/ for the heroes of all time have gone before us /The labyrinth is thoroughly known/ We have only to follow the thread of…
