Liked the videopoetry. A step ahead of ekphrasis. Dave, youth is never really wasted on the young. Eveything that comes to our lives, ferments our lives. Then we do grow old — but wiser, happier, I hope. Then the leaves on those trees are clipped between life’s pages. Not gone. Brown now, part of memories (which life is really all about), and we move on. Gather more leaves, and become in the process our sturdy, old oak tree.
(You’re keeping your tracks well, assuming the internet doesn’t conk out on all of us bloggers. Famous? All it takes to be one is one grateful reader. (:) Thanks. See you on the Porch.