First Snow Nov30 waiting for first snow the last day of November— an empty duck pond Plum Blossoms Nov29 seven plum blossoms singing to me at daybreak in a fragrant tongue Empty Bowl Nov28 a full beaver moon rising over the mountains— my bowl is empty Sadness Nov27 her sadness a steady rainfall through the night Love Nov26 She thought it was love— when the rose petals faded, she thought otherwise. Rain Nov25 rhythm in her soul— rain tattooing on the roof 2:15 a.m. Birches Nov24 three birches their silvery throats quivering Monk Nov23 Peeking through the hedge, a monk bemused by birdsong stumbles home to pray. Beach Nov22 In the little church, though she appears to listen, her toes scratch the beach. One Nov21 one life many circles no end Post navigation ← Older posts Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy Follow Following Mark M. Redfearn Join 468 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Mark M. Redfearn Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar Loading Comments... Write a Comment... Email (Required) Name (Required) Website
Plum Blossoms Nov29 seven plum blossoms singing to me at daybreak in a fragrant tongue Empty Bowl Nov28 a full beaver moon rising over the mountains— my bowl is empty Sadness Nov27 her sadness a steady rainfall through the night Love Nov26 She thought it was love— when the rose petals faded, she thought otherwise. Rain Nov25 rhythm in her soul— rain tattooing on the roof 2:15 a.m. Birches Nov24 three birches their silvery throats quivering Monk Nov23 Peeking through the hedge, a monk bemused by birdsong stumbles home to pray. Beach Nov22 In the little church, though she appears to listen, her toes scratch the beach. One Nov21 one life many circles no end Post navigation ← Older posts Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy Follow Following Mark M. Redfearn Join 468 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Mark M. Redfearn Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar Loading Comments... Write a Comment... Email (Required) Name (Required) Website
Empty Bowl Nov28 a full beaver moon rising over the mountains— my bowl is empty Sadness Nov27 her sadness a steady rainfall through the night Love Nov26 She thought it was love— when the rose petals faded, she thought otherwise. Rain Nov25 rhythm in her soul— rain tattooing on the roof 2:15 a.m. Birches Nov24 three birches their silvery throats quivering Monk Nov23 Peeking through the hedge, a monk bemused by birdsong stumbles home to pray. Beach Nov22 In the little church, though she appears to listen, her toes scratch the beach. One Nov21 one life many circles no end Post navigation ← Older posts Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy Follow Following Mark M. Redfearn Join 468 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Mark M. Redfearn Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar Loading Comments... Write a Comment... Email (Required) Name (Required) Website
Sadness Nov27 her sadness a steady rainfall through the night Love Nov26 She thought it was love— when the rose petals faded, she thought otherwise. Rain Nov25 rhythm in her soul— rain tattooing on the roof 2:15 a.m. Birches Nov24 three birches their silvery throats quivering Monk Nov23 Peeking through the hedge, a monk bemused by birdsong stumbles home to pray. Beach Nov22 In the little church, though she appears to listen, her toes scratch the beach. One Nov21 one life many circles no end Post navigation ← Older posts Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy Follow Following Mark M. Redfearn Join 468 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Mark M. Redfearn Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar Loading Comments... Write a Comment... Email (Required) Name (Required) Website
Love Nov26 She thought it was love— when the rose petals faded, she thought otherwise. Rain Nov25 rhythm in her soul— rain tattooing on the roof 2:15 a.m. Birches Nov24 three birches their silvery throats quivering Monk Nov23 Peeking through the hedge, a monk bemused by birdsong stumbles home to pray. Beach Nov22 In the little church, though she appears to listen, her toes scratch the beach. One Nov21 one life many circles no end Post navigation ← Older posts Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy Follow Following Mark M. Redfearn Join 468 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Mark M. Redfearn Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar Loading Comments... Write a Comment... Email (Required) Name (Required) Website
Rain Nov25 rhythm in her soul— rain tattooing on the roof 2:15 a.m. Birches Nov24 three birches their silvery throats quivering Monk Nov23 Peeking through the hedge, a monk bemused by birdsong stumbles home to pray. Beach Nov22 In the little church, though she appears to listen, her toes scratch the beach. One Nov21 one life many circles no end Post navigation ← Older posts Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy Follow Following Mark M. Redfearn Join 468 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Mark M. Redfearn Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar Loading Comments... Write a Comment... Email (Required) Name (Required) Website
Birches Nov24 three birches their silvery throats quivering Monk Nov23 Peeking through the hedge, a monk bemused by birdsong stumbles home to pray. Beach Nov22 In the little church, though she appears to listen, her toes scratch the beach. One Nov21 one life many circles no end Post navigation ← Older posts Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy Follow Following Mark M. Redfearn Join 468 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Mark M. Redfearn Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar Loading Comments... Write a Comment... Email (Required) Name (Required) Website
Monk Nov23 Peeking through the hedge, a monk bemused by birdsong stumbles home to pray. Beach Nov22 In the little church, though she appears to listen, her toes scratch the beach. One Nov21 one life many circles no end Post navigation ← Older posts Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy Follow Following Mark M. Redfearn Join 468 other followers Sign me up Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now. Mark M. Redfearn Customize Follow Following Sign up Log in Report this content View site in Reader Manage subscriptions Collapse this bar Loading Comments... Write a Comment... Email (Required) Name (Required) Website
Beach Nov22 In the little church, though she appears to listen, her toes scratch the beach. One Nov21 one life many circles no end Post navigation ← Older posts