Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.
I started listening to the wolves and the timber, wolves and the timber at night…
I wake in the field with the cold and the lonesome—the moon’s the only face I see
So long, so high….
...Suppose I said I am on my best behavior. Would you want me when I’m not myself?
...Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map