Stone #18 – Other Weathers

Somewhere the poet walks out in a city Scorched in summer heat, the sky is red with “the sun’s harsh slap”. Here, gray, a chill winter rain.

 

*One thing I love about The River is that it meanders around the whole globe twenty-four hours a day with poets tossing in their stones telling me of other seasons, other weathers, other skies. This one inspired by the poet of The Sacred Cave.

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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, Small Stones, The River and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Stone #18 – Other Weathers

  1. Louise says:

    Thank you! Glad you liked it!

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