Where The Sidewalk Ends There is a place where the sidewalk ends and before the street begins, and there the grass grows soft and white, and there the sun burns crimson bright, and there the moon-bird rests from his flight to cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this
The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And
This site is the digital home of our neighborhood poetry box and the nature-planted poetry in San Diego. With the intention of spreading just a bit more beauty into the world, we share poetry and, sometimes, artwork. Feel free to comment here, but most importantly, enjoy the sharing of beauty.
Communal Acts of Beauty 