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SMALL STEPS (for Foxy)The cat sits peering with studied caution outside the motel room door. It is quiet,cold and foggy out in the gravel lot.It is 02:40 am. A lone streetlight burns orange in the distance casting dim light on a dark and lonely...
I'm writing from Washougal, WA though I really don't want to add it to too many maps. It's better kept as a secret. News? I blog prose and poetry about whatever is (or was) on my mind. Little of it can be called 'news' by any stretch. I'm simply attempting...
Tags: Washougal, Columbia River, Ireland, Timperley, UK, tea, musings, trains, poetry, prose, novel
Midnight is where the transition happens. As the page turns to a new chapter, as the door of another place pushed open by the Almighty hand, showing us the fresh path of every beginning, the Time once again unfurled before us. Past is on the other...