Well, the new vines are pruned and March has not yet ended.
Cool air, snow still on the ground, and I have a wonderfully fulfilled feeling.
Muscles ache, more than they used to. But hell, at least they ache…
Well, the new vines are pruned and March has not yet ended.
Cool air, snow still on the ground, and I have a wonderfully fulfilled feeling.
Muscles ache, more than they used to. But hell, at least they ache…
My Journey Begins Where the Road Ends…
A lone shape sits high
on an overhanging branch
hunts alone
Spread before his dark outline
he sees a crispy white winter morning
The writer receives a true gift
catches a vision of the eagle
the solitary hunter
high on a pulpit
Like a Sunday morning preacher
the proud Eagle projects more than
words
transmits a warm feeling
emanates a confidence
for an immeasurable moment
all is right with the world
A note of thanks to all my friends for birthday wishes. 68 will be a great year!
Golden Winter Morning
The first day of winter follows
the longest night
Up early, before the sun, warming
days forecast, enough to melt
a week’s snow.
Deer active, plow through the white cover to reach
green clover below. As I plow piles, make a path
so the smiling mail lady can reach the box in
her Jeep.
She brings cards of the season. Some with decorated trees,
Angels, snowy wood, the Magi. Some have deer who stand and
stare from a winter field.
Like the one who watches me.
A whirlwind tour of Italy was wonderful. From Roma to Firenze, Venetia, Assisi, and the Amalfi Coast. Many stops in between – tried valiantly to straighten the leaning tower in Pisa and avoid the fifty year flood in Venice on the full moon.
I’ve returned to my author’s copy of the Walloon Writers Review. Many thanks to the editor for including my prose poem, ‘North Woods Dream’ – please find this lovely written publication, and support writer’s work – lift yourself above the morass…
Work on my novel – tentatively titled ‘Gentle Spirits’ is steady, slow, and careful. What a wonder, to discover new characters, and find out where they may lead you.
Meanwhile, please enjoy Firenze (Florence) at Sunset –
Need some help?
Finish your story.
Contact me, Tom Conlan: tfconlan@gmail.com
Editing services at extra-reasonable rates.
June 23rd brought excitement to the farm. Our youngest daughter Kathryn Elizabeth – my Katy, Katy, was married here at home.
The progress on my novel stalled a bit – perhaps a month or so of preparations dominated my time. But the delay proved worthwhile, and fulfilling.
We plowed through the rain, and danced in the tent. We enjoyed the company of family, old and new, and friends from afar.
Amazing how a wedding pulls everyone together, including Conlan’s far afield:
and the effervescent the McCarty Clan:
And now, a week later, as the dog days of summer heat up the kitchen – things have returned to normal –
Yet will never be the same…
This fellow has been hunting in the area.
A bit cold yet on this last official day of winter.
Muddy Waters the 2nd, nee Clapton the cat, has been hiding under the porch. Can’t blame him…