by Valerie D. Staton Wildflowers grow through cracks in stone, bright and unyielding.Vines curl around benches,moss carpets abandoned paths.Life persists here, quietly brave,teaching me that even in decaythere is hope, and even endingscarry the seed of something new.
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The Whippoorwill
By Valerie Denay Staton In the dark of night, the whippoorwill cries as it flitters beneath the night’s blue sky. Master of camouflage, heard, seldom seen, is searching for woodland insects to glean. Whippoorwill! Whippoorwill! The nightjar trills, as it glowers and swoops, down for the kill. Insects traversing the forest take heed. For theContinue reading “The Whippoorwill”
Poetic Reflections 