Poems Are

prayers slipped quietly

into dark corners beneath

dangling spiderwebs

wet with morning's dew, calls

of the soul sent out over

a winding dirt road deep in

the heart of Oklahoma,

bouncing around in the back

of an open wagon drawn

by a pair of mules named Blue

and Lou, winds in the woods

hurrying little children's

wishes home.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.