James Lee Jobe
Comments about James Lee Jobe
Yule. A quarter moon southwesters in early evening.
From the darkness above, the lonely sounds of geese.
An uneasiness, an uncertainty lies across the earth.
An old cat with no tail watches the empty street.
Valley oaks, long nude of leaves, whisper in a chill wind.
Commanding clouds slide in, covering the moon; thick, strong.