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.
Musings and books from a grunty overthinker
Author of Multiple Books in Too Many Genres
The Words
Speaker • Teacher • Writer • Activist
Creating determined heroines and the men who appreciate them
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
Meraki
Bereavement single parent dad
Frank Regan in words
Unleashing the beauty of creativity
Poetry blog
Award Winning Fantasy Author
I Am Who I Am
between dreams and reality
An Empyrean Cycle
Author of Historical Fiction and Fantasy
Summaries, Reviews & Recommendations! ❤️
Bringing you all news on The Witcher on Netflix
brief salvage 