A Melancholy Gold

Share A Melancholy Gold By Vernie Lynn DeMille   The wind is in the grass now, Gentle fingers prodding At leaves that will not rise,   Pressing them to dance Just one more waltz Along the av... Read More

Vanishing Point

"...I close my eyes at journey’s end, and sit beneath the shade. The heat of travel flows from my fingertips and toes to the soil beneath me, The earth returns a cool stillness in trade. I open m... Read More