the day slips
through our fingers . . .
sunfall
prognosis
the waterfall blown
off course
wool waulkers . . .
Hebridean rhythms
still beating
in the frayed fingertips
of great-grandma's gloves
Welcome to this archive of my published poetry, photography and art. Thank you for allowing me to share my creative passions with you, and for taking the time to visit. Please be kind, and do not copy any of the content on this site without permission and attribution. All rights reserved © Debbie Strange. I unfold my origami self / and swim into a lake of fire / washing my hair in ashes / the crane-legged words / of a thousand burning poems.
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