In september,
silence draws in.
Until the ritual bells
start ringing.
And the sharp-eyed
magpies roll across
the high plains.
Then, through the sun
and the moon.-
souls will rise again.
Sang the magpie
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 