Frost at First Light

All along the fence

tenacious honeysuckle

fades to lighter green.


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, autumn, haiku, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Frost at First Light

  1. Libby says:

    I can almost see the honeysuckle – nice one. The book jane tims mentions sounds interesting – must look out for it.

  2. jane tims says:

    Hi. ‘fade’ is such a lovely word. Have you read Annie Dillard’s ‘Teaching a Stone to Talk’? Jane

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