“In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things. In physical terms, I move through them; yet in metaphysical ones, they seem to move through me.” ~ John Fowles
Welcome to nightpoetry. A garden where I plant, grow and reap sight, sound and feeling. Something is always in season. Come and enjoy the harvest with me…
“In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things. In physical terms, I move through them; yet in metaphysical ones, they seem to move through me.” ~ John Fowles