Nestucca, Never Home

WOWIE—A BEAUTIFUL POST!

church ov solitude

Upon stepping out of my car into the evening air of the river canyon, I felt at once held by the stillness and quiet. There was no sound but the river tumbling over rocks in the shallows, no wind. A bank of mist clung to the air above the water and mingled with the tree canopy.

I made my way from the road, down a small footpath toward the river. Lined with the fallen, decaying leaves of alders, who formed a sparse blanket across the tiny, green ground cover that eased their way from the clay-rich, sandy soils of the river bank.

I passed through the hallways of salmonberry thickets, their dormant sticks building a wall that reaches well above my head on both sides of the path, a gentle tangle of nut brown branches growing skyward from the dampest parts of the earth; no berries, no leaves.

When I…

View original post 442 more words

This entry was posted in Uncategorized on by .

About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.