On a rainy, silent night in Thornfield
the deserted streets, houses shrouded in fog
a town where time seemed to stand still
each shadow dancing beneath the flickering light
of the old train station
a relic of red bricks and worn wood

Clara Byrne waited
a young reporter, heart pulsating with mysteries
rumors swirling around her like the rain
about a train that departed at 11:59 PM
never...

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I have always hankered after the life of the artist - including the world of the visual arts. In retirement I have the opportunity to follow that yearning.

The Humble Heart of the Craftsman

As corruption sheds its sting when seen

from lofty heights,

so humility shows its mettle

in the steady care of the gifted creator;

turning one's gaze from skilled hands

to the thi...

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I never feel amiss, alone or as a stranger

On days when wandering amongst the trees,

When standing on the hilltop overlooking land of bountiful existence

Or looking at the life’s reflections in blue waters of the sea.

I never know rage, hate or urge of violence

At twilight times when rolling in the silky grass,

When sitting on the tree log by the brook watching appearance of...

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