After the crickets stop
evening silence grows
louder and louderThe Red Barn, 45
Dragonflies—
Even if I could catch one
—I wouldn’t.Tombo, 34
A dragonfly touches down
Leaves a few circles growing
In the water …Tombo, 27
Winter moonlight;
Between the house and the barn
the untracked snow.Snowflakes, 17
Burnt-out beach fire;
Rinds of a watermelon
among the ashes.A Flight of Herons, 30
At age 14 as a freshman a most critical event occurred. I was introduced to stream of consciousness as a way of writing...and what I had been doing all my writing life was supremely impacted. A day does not go by that I do not write...some thing of prose, poetry, correspondance and commentary. I am what? druid? woman? mother? lover? a drop in the ocean? all of the above. All rights reserved. Copyright 2005 Deborah Drake.