“One of my all-time favorite books, period! I fell in love with the young, sassy and hysterical, “Tharon Ann” who grew into the pained but stunning woman. A woman who somehow managed to survive all the pain and injustice thrown her way. The child, the actress, the mother, and the roadrunner all wrapped up to become the irresistible poet and writer we know today. Weaver, keep her tenderly in the palm of your hand she deserves your love.” Dennis John Ferado
in silence mist falls gently upon the great treetops
Oh Weaver, you wrap your dreamy arms around all who live under your umbrella
hint of sunrise with splashes of magenta and gold
across early horizon, air pregnant with expectation
giant oaks cradled in the alpha heart unashamed in their nakedness.
early this morning I watched seven wild turkeys
cross a grassy knoll, their footprints in winter syncopation
against a snowy quilt
you braid secrets into their autumn breasts
these foragers of winter acorns
once obtained off they go doing their winter rumba
at other places, other knolls
this makes you belly laugh
you like to make angels in the snow
© jb