The Bugmaster:
.: Twilight Sweeps :.
The Bugmaster:
.: A Poet's Retreat :.
The Bugmaster:
.: A Trip To Seward Alaska :.
The Bugmaster:
.: The Calling :.
The Bugmaster:
.: The Journey Home :.
The Bugmaster:
.: Relieve Me, Sweet Flower :.
The Bugmaster:
.: Love Is Too Sweet :.
The Bugmaster:
.: No Better Ground :.
The Bugmaster:
.: King Of Spring :.
The Bugmaster:
.: Tiny Little Heart :.
The Bugmaster:
.: To Say Goodbye :.
The Bugmaster:
.: Opened My Heart to the Water :.
The Bugmaster:
.: Rolling River Take Me Away :.
The Bugmaster:
.: To See the World Bloom :.
The Bugmaster:
.: The Bird's Nest :.
The Bugmaster:
Sun has come and I’ve shaken off the snow. A brighter smile has lit upon my face. The time is coming soon when things will grow. A better mind has surely found its place.
The Bugmaster:
The morning’s shining crystal on the tall trees. Their limbs are sparkling sharply with the new freeze. The bark is cast in silvers by the hoarfrost. The plants are gently sleeping but are not lost.
The Bugmaster:
I lie beneath the dying day. The branches o’er me softly sway. A web above me made of wood. While tall and black the old trunk stood.
The Bugmaster:
.: A Final Kiss Before The Night :.
The Bugmaster:
Take me with your frozen hands spin me out among the trees. Let me hear your sad lament singing restless on the breeze. Let us dance in growing dark we’ll forget about the past. It only makes me sorry that these moments never last.
The Bugmaster:
.: Tried to Warm My Hands Against the Setting Sun :.
The Bugmaster:
I reach though I cannot touch. I search though I can't learn much. I cry though it leaves no trace. I love for I’ve seen your face.
The Bugmaster:
.: Don't let me go I'm fading slowly :.
The Bugmaster:
Funny little thing don't cry. There's always an answer to the why. "What's my use;" you always ponder. “In this enchanted world of wonder?” If yours the earth has yet to see. Then say “weep no more” and let it be.
The Bugmaster:
Don’t cry, darling, though all the leaves are turning and turning. Go to sleep, darling, it’s no use your yearning and yearning. The storms on the mountain tops are churning and churning. But near your warm bed the fire is burning and burning.
The Bugmaster:
.: Kissed the Land with Dew :.
The Bugmaster:
.: I Saw Heaven For A Moment :.
The Bugmaster:
In gentle wind I'm floating through a haze of green. While dancing in the breezes the peeling birch trees lean. The vines are long and crawling all up their living beams. While colors melt in silence like memories from a dream.
The Bugmaster:
.: Cayton Campground Flowers :.
The Bugmaster:
.: Flagstaff Arizona :.
