Where Water Goes: First Book of Parables

Poetry has always been in my being from earliest memory. Even as a young child, I sought the highest branches to sway with the wind suspended between the immense potential of a star filled heaven and the banal motion of finite earth below. Even then my soul would sing in an unknown language, glorifying the majestic presence connected in every living thing. The first time a written poem inspires this part of me are rhymes read to me by my dearest mother from a book titled Little Drops of Wat...