Spring is coming
The streets are flush
with expectancy.
The hoarfrost
a distant memory.
When the coughing ceases.
We are united.
Waiting patiently for
voice of the cicadas.
Spring view
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 