faceless yet not strange
we read, we write, we meet in
the hour of the wolf
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When I was walking in the mountains near Carcasonne there
was a white albino wolf crossing my path. We looked each other in
in the eye for a few seconds, he had no fear, me neather. Then he turned around and left. It was during daylight it happened
and not in the hour of the wolf.
killea: Goodness Ozzy, what a rare treat. I have never seen a wolf in the wild. Thanks
For me it is a first, sharing with people I've never met, seen or spoken to!
I often try to envision the faces and voices behind the poems and stories!
And I have to admit, it's more often nearer to the hour of the beast that I'm scribbling across my screen...;o)
killea: Same here.
In a valley of wolves...
A good poem has the soul of it's writer.
Nice one June!
killea: Thanks so much, Peerke
nice program June!
killea: thank you,lief.
killea: Thank you, Magdalena
Met weinig woorden een sterk werkje gemaakt, groetjes.
killea: Thank you otiske
Brother wolf and sister moon..(the cult)
Feel like howling
killea: Me too most nights! Instead I sit in front of my laptop and meet other howlers.