wordhoard

        Goldwing Moth   A goldwing moth is between the scissors and the ink bottle  on the desk. Last night it flew hundreds of circles arou...

      Larry Welo     A s imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away— Too imperceptible at last To seem like Perfidy— A Quietness distille...

      Gina Signore Woods   I part the out thrusting branches and come in beneath the blessed and the blessing trees. Though I...

  Yongsung Kim The Promise and the Way He Kept It Isaiah 9:2-7   The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt...

                                                                                Raymond Booth Signs of Winter   The cat runs races with her ...

  Grigoriy Myasoyedov   Autumn On the Land   A man, a field, silence—what is there to say? H...

      Heinrich Vogeler Autumn   There is wind where the rose was; Cold rain where the sweet grass was; And clouds like sheep  Stream o'e...