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...
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.
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.
On sundown the little insects come out to play! Very true Cheryl!
ReplyDeleteHank
There were clouds of the little ones floating everywhere.
DeleteWonderful to feel grandpapa's presence :)
ReplyDeleteGrandpapa 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.
Deletesounds like my childhood by the Kaskakian river ... lovely ku|
ReplyDeleteI 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.
Deleteit itches. but bring back memories.
ReplyDeleteHad you been there it may not have itched
DeleteSome days, you just can do no wrong. Lovely!
ReplyDeleteSo true...it`s sure a nice feeling.
DeleteThank you, Janice:)
ReplyDeleteThere are so many systems of belief. I like the ones that suggest our loved ones are watching... :)
ReplyDeleteI do too...it is so much more comforting believing this.
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