Poems fall like April showers in June, welcome. Once the clouds give way to one rain drop the heavens open and all of my ideas escape at once, like dandelion seeds scattered on someone elses manicured lawn. And wait.
I have no problem leaving them there even when I get that knock at the door behind which I can spy a red f…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Whispers from My Wild Garden to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.