Sunday, January 19, 2014

Tomorrow We Will Arrive in Nacogdoches

Nights of silent moon
Let me see the trees
Far across the fields
My mind makes images
Far off shadows.
Wagons creak down a mud trodden road
Without light but the moon
Like a filtered sun
Shadow light guides us
Down the road to the creek
We must make camp now
Tomorrow we will arrive in Nacogdoches.