A poem about ‘duende.’
Poems
A poem about hope.
A poem to my father.
A poem is fleeting, to capture it requires an attentive ear.
The woods are a welcome sight, no matter the time of year.
The poet’s secret? Inspiration comes from somewhere “other.”
A surprise sighting on a walk through the spring woods inspired this poem.
My great fondness for frogs and toads spills over into a poem. I can’t help it.
A splash of color when we least expect it inspires us.
A poet’s work is never done.