The Morning Porch

November 22, 2019 by Dave Bonta

After a windy night, the whole horizon is visible beyond the trees. I watch one of the last oak leaves float down, rocking, taking its time.

1 thought on “”

Doreen Spungin

November 23, 2019 at 3:54 am

As with so many of your poems, James, this gives me comfort. So lovely in its simplicity and wisdom.

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