*Abbie Johnson Taylor’s voice is evident in her music, in her poetry, in her essays and her stories. It is the voice of a woman seeking to balance tenderness and strength, a woman striving to leave her creative mark in a world crowded with voices. I only wonder where I will find her next.*
I see blue sky above my silent back yard.
In the distance, dogs bark.
A saw whines, followed by other construction noises.
A plane flies overhead.
Far away, a train whistles.
Caressed by a cool, autumnal breeze, I reflect on my life, at peace.
The above poem was published in the November 1st edition of The Weekly Avocet. I wrote it in my back yard one Sunday afternoon.
Abbie lives in Sheridan, Wyoming, where for six years, she cared for her late husband Bill, totally blind, who was partially paralyzed by…
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