Still the aftermath
Trees reach tall and wide, like We-
That is All-she wrote.
Painting by George Hayter (1792-1871), 'After the Storm' c. 1833 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Riding horses is just nuts and bolts, you know if the rider is nuts, the horse bolts. it's true. He knew I loved horses from the start....
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