As a Young Fawn, I

As a Young Fawn, I

As a young fawn, I with awkward step found an opening in the wood; unfolding eyes beheld and touched what I could little understand — that though I’d freely come to see, ’twas his hand that was drawing me.  I wished not that our eyes...
Tracks in the Sand

Tracks in the Sand

A poem from 40 years past. I turn to see my footprints in the sand  as wave after wave rolls in.  Now, here I stand, observing.  And though my footsteps be almost gone,  they remain, and perchance someone will follow.  But if someone sees my...

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