Tags bucolic

A Missouri Farmer Before the Invention of Giving U..

A Poem by L.F. Royal

Blood beads on cracked hands Hands, like sackcloth Iron wills grasp plow handles soft, like worn church pews ..

early riser

A Poem by beckyflowa

I wake up early to be bucolic,to listen to the breeze,when all souls tend to frolic,round and round their dreams.how could you sleep,when all the tree..