A Poem: “Where the Ring Comes Together”

Image via Wikipedia I miss driving up that street The last in the land With winds singing up Harney Peak. A blue diamond cross And a sailor’s sunburnt hand Are all that’s left Spreading across the dry land. The night is thirsty for the juice Of speech. Woodmills chill the cherry bark; The pond of the… Continue reading A Poem: “Where the Ring Comes Together”