Top bunk, pen in hand,

Leaves outside my window

Stirred by the wind,

Nature, my journal.

Walks in solitude;

People talking in verse.

Walks with words

And songs written in a pasture.

Stories with sad endings;

Poems with rhyme; people talking in verse,

Dialogues with images of life fragments,

Searching for the meter – and my place.

Moments away from service,

A return to poems of trees.



Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard












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