I so love listening to you read your beautiful poems.
My winter soundscape is listening to my loom as I step on treadles and hear the creak of the harnesses lifting and the whoosh of the shuttle back and forth, back and forth and the eye candy of watching the imagined cloth emerge.an active meditation that slows me down to the rhythm of winter.
I so love listening to you read your beautiful poems.
My winter soundscape is listening to my loom as I step on treadles and hear the creak of the harnesses lifting and the whoosh of the shuttle back and forth, back and forth and the eye candy of watching the imagined cloth emerge.an active meditation that slows me down to the rhythm of winter.
I especially love "withered leaves clinging." Beautiful syntax!