Thursday, May 28, 2009


Dark sky blue shot cloud white,
scud along to wind song.

Quacking aspens lyric dance,
sighing embrace of indigo night.

(c) 10.10.97


  1. "scud along to wind song." ---lovely.
    You're very inspiring with words. One of these days, I'm going to open my mind/heart to words and try to write a poem. My dad is a poet, but I haven't written a poem since the 8th grade. My son is also a poet. I should let him lead me.

  2. My Mom loved poetry, and read it to me from the cradle. All kinds of poetry. But what she loved most were the rhyming ballads. The old story poems. I don't know it you could call it a ballad poem, but I have short story poem. Long for me, but short compared to the real thing.
    What you write about the birds and the nature you find them in has often been poetic. Distill it to the basic emotion you are feeling, it doesn't have to rhyme. With poets in the family you already know that, I sure.
    I have two sons. 39 and 37. They both live in Portland, Or.
    Is your son still at home?
    I'd love to see the poem you write. I'f you'd like to share one, any time the mood strikes my email is:

  3. A compact piece, reminiscent indeed of the calm of summer nights. ;) Cheers.