I hear a thousand blended cries,
While in a graveyard I laid broken.
In a mood of despair when horrid thoughts
Only brought

Walking On ice

The vast sheet of ice which I come upon
at the end of the curving
tire-track road,
is illuminated by a moon

A Clean Slate

Drifts extending skyward
Nature's artistry displayed
A subtle reminder to pause
Decisions carefully weighed

Always with me.

When I sit in my garden
On my little wooden seat
In summer or winter
Day or night, it matters not
You are with

The Coming of the Change

How fragile the young and twisting green
For lack of rain a sight most seen
Brown beneath the withered