Here I sit,
Alone and sixty.
Bald and fat
And full of sin.
Cold the seat
And loud the cistern.
As I read the Harpic tin!

Home

I am home among my beloved mountains.  
I view them but no longer venture into them as I did when young.
They have been my unwavering haven and guide to my life.
I have returned to my mountains to find my sanctuary.
I am blessed that I have this opportunity to live in my haven.
This is just the way I want things to be for me.

Wishes

I wish that my room had a floor;

  I don't so much care for a door;

    But this crawling around

    Without touching the ground

  Is getting to be quite a bore.

Something that I hammered together in one of those moments when..........

Silence

We have silence in our little world.
Our silence is a profound blessing.
We cherish our silence as it touches our souls.
In our silence we have intermissions of the calls of the wild.
Our birds bring us their joyful songs, the reed-buck her whistled bid for a partner's company.
Our silence has it's intermittent sounds of the country with their messages of hope and peace.
So is our silence!

Hello scribblers. Here we are.  A blog spot just for us. So lets put thoughts, ideas, plots, crits etc., on here and have fun.

We can put the dates of our meetings, Who wrote what (and why?) Forthcoming events. Happy birthdays (Mine is today!) All sorts of stuff to keep us amused and encouraged.

We will set up a list of writers in our group with contact details so we may keep in touch with one another.