“It’s like falling through a poem” I said to myself
As we walked the cobblestone streets of Old Quebec...
…to the clippety-clop of horses hooves
But this is not your average poem;
Colorful clapboard cottages
A church steeple
Cloud capped coves...
Beaches and bays
Vistas with Vineyard and tree
And ever the rolling,
Of the vast, blue sea
© Janet Martin