From here the sun’s arc
is invisible. Squirrels
chatter in its warmth.
Still morning darkness
flickers streetlamps and porch lights,
heralds a new sun
Gold curtains fade rose
then white gray as day plummets.
Cat bathes on the sill.
I Am Who I Am
between dreams and reality
An Empyrean Cycle
Author of Historical Fiction and Fantasy
Articles, Poems, Book Summaries & Reviews
Country House History - people and places
Bringing you all news on The Witcher on Netflix
Home of Peter McLean
For Readers & Authors of Historical Romance
A selfish poet
Unclogging my mind...
Alys Jackson Writer
Conjured by Sarah Doughty
Forays in Speculative Fiction
a life in motion
A journey through the seasons with two adopted whippets, a poet and a camera
