A lone blue magpie
dances through
the pure winter air.
Cutting a path
to a firefly feast.
No grains of dust
or snow on the mountains.
In the depth of the cold,
I set out to follow.
The way of all flesh
that is, and is not.
Love river blues
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 