Active head rest /
Surely, the car makes a jest. /
I laugh as air bag crests.

Active head rest /
Surely, the car makes a jest. /
I laugh as air bag crests.

Filed under 2018, photo by David E. Booker, poetry by author
A thousand thieves may /
rip the jonquils from the ground /
but they can’t steal Spring.

Filed under 2018, photo by David E. Booker, poetry by author, Uncategorized
Whipped cream mountain kiss, /
Berries touching a waffle, /
Subtly love comes.

Toast to the muses /
High and low, who grace the Earth /
With bread, wine, and song.

The sign almost glowed,/
the word and the memories /
welded moments.


“End Road Work,” sign says. /
Declaration or demand? /
Hanging to stir doubt?

“If only are early and unexpected guests were as pleasant as our early and unexpected jonquils,” he said to his wife when they finally had a moment alone.
Filed under 2018, photo by David E. Booker, Photo Finish Friday

He came to town to avenge his brother’s death the only way he knew how: one slow, painful scoot at a time.
Filed under 2018, photo by David E. Booker, Photo Finish Friday

In a cold, early morning in winter, the pumpkin sparkles with frost.
Filed under 2018, photo by David E. Booker, Photo Finish Friday

Some days you catch the Friday and some days, the Friday catches you.
Filed under 2017, photo by David E. Booker, Photo Finish Friday