Sunrise hits a white wagtail.
The sound of cars,
and autumn solitude.
Burning the fallen leaves,
I glimpse the past.
The dark edges of night,
and the boundaries
of our beliefs.
Back from the war.
Cold in Hong Kong
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 