The Limb – July Stone #3

The limb fell

in a gust of wind

the air smells of rain

the house is still

its getting dark…

-wrensong

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About wrensong

I am a poet who collects stones. I am a wanderer of creek beds and forests, canyons and high desert who, coming home, sometimes finds words to tell the story. I am a companion with others in the search for Deep, Wild Soul. I shape containers in time and space for others to come together to write, to tell their stories, to hold each other in the telling. I am a grandmother and the companion of a cat named Alaya. I often travel out into open country with a man who calls himself Dunewalker who has hung his hammock in my heart.
This entry was posted in A River of Stones, aros, Poetry, Small Stones, The River. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to The Limb – July Stone #3

  1. This reminds of many summer evenings spent in my aunt’s cabin on the lake. 🙂

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