Poem Shards
 Here is a fresh poem:

  When the earth kisses the sky at the mesas
    that stand before the super Moon rising 
               on a Saturday night 
 Hear the sound of the migrating birds return
   to their Springtime rousts, perches in the spruces
     birtches line the flueces
  in where the water rolls 
    to fall off
    to the unknown lower down places
  thousands of yards below.

 from poem page 183


Some photos from the beach in Quincy near the
VFW.