Oct. 2, 2022
by James Collins (author's profile)


Melted snow rivers down-exposing the mountain breasts.
Her wounds are evident of mans intrusion,
trees sway as wind wips through the green hair spreading leafs upon mother earths belly.
It is here where I wish to be,
away from those that yell obscenities and honk their horns.
The only distraction I wish to see and hear is that of geese that gut the sky as they fly.
It is here that I feel Gods glorious presence.


Replies Replies feed

We will print and mail your reply by . Guidelines

Other posts by this author


Get notifications when new letters or replies are posted!

Posts by James Collins: RSS email me
Comments on “Untitled”: RSS email me
Featured posts: RSS email me
All Between the Bars posts: RSS