Tournesol is still tilling the soil dans un jardin; slowly planting a seed here and there, hoping to see poetry blossom...a labour of love.
This blog will host short form poetry such as Haiku, Tanka, Tilus, Lanturne, Shadorma, Senryû...
On sundown the little insects come out to play! Very true Cheryl!Hank
There were clouds of the little ones floating everywhere.
Thank you, Janice:)
Wonderful to feel grandpapa's presence :)
Grandpapa is with me so often...since I was 6...I have to keep reminding myself GrandMaman is by his side but independent and compassionate as she is, she may be putting out fires somewhere else too.
sounds like my childhood by the Kaskakian river ... lovely ku|
I was in the presence of grace that day...not one mosquito bit me and some even rested on my arm...this had never happened to me...I'm usually eaten alive.
it itches. but bring back memories.
Had you been there it may not have itched
Some days, you just can do no wrong. Lovely!
So true...it`s sure a nice feeling.
There are so many systems of belief. I like the ones that suggest our loved ones are watching... :)
I do too...it is so much more comforting believing this.
Your visits and comments soothe the soul and my eyes smile, thank you!Vos visites et commentaires apaise l'âme et mes yeux rigolent, merci!