Dave Bonta in epigrams and conundrums, forest January 31, 2017 9 Words

At the silent vigil

Beech trees in the snow, still hanging on to their dried and faded leaves.

we brought our words folded up like dangerous umbrellas.

Enter your comment here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Woodrat photoblog