everything is story-able
May 28, 2011 § 6 Comments
The wee tree frog of Cafe Lochcrest. His house is a gouge of a knot in the poolside maple.
Sometimes he sits silently.
Sometimes he sings his poems to the moon.
Tagged: journal, lifestlye, nature, photography, poetry, tree frogs, Writing
Like this much!! Singing his poems to the moon…oh, yes…
Trust all is well in your corner.
Interesting photos and poetry… the beauty of simplicity.
Sometimes he sings his poems to the moon. Brilliant.
Just back from a much needed weekend with friends in leafy, peaceful CT. No sirens, thumping car stereos or screams on the streets. Last night we made s’mores (first time I’ve ever tasted/made one of those…mmmm) over the fire pit while listening to forest murmuring. “What was that?” I had to ask (too much city, too little nature). “Sounds like a tree frog,” said my friend. “Tree frog??” said I.
Thanks for the picture!!! Now I know.
PINKLETINKS! love ’em.
Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:
You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out / Change )
Connecting to %s
Notify me of new comments via email.
Notify me of new posts via email.
« Sunday summer a.m….
flying…(time that is) »
You are currently reading Wee summer songs, tree trilling voices at This Writing Life ....
Blog at WordPress.com.