A poem from Jean L. French’s collection — now available in Global Edition. Incanto I call the name of rain a secret name without words. A wisp of cloud grows all day it grows cloud gathers to fullness releases, whispering back to me rain’s… Continue Reading “Excerpt from WATERSHED”
INVITATION: All art grows out of paying attention: in sight, sound, scent, taste & touch. You are invited to craft a written response (poetry or prose, 50 words or less) to the images and scene below.