Sky By The Window
A pencil, some paper,
a pen, and a chair.
A desk by the window,
and the wind through your hair.
From Winter: To Spring
I walk through a patch of yellow flowers,
Some have shimmer, some have a glint of gold.
Others invite the sun to play,
Without A Clue
No one knows the rocks that burden my shoulder,
breaking bones piece by piece.
No one sees my rapid heartbeats,
as they are drowned by head hard thoughts.
eating ripe apples,
and laughing away.
The Quiet Boulder
The rock, and the wind, and the mountain, and river.
The sunrays are masters, and the Sun is the giver.
The towering mountain, it gives quite a leer,
The savageful wind brings danger and fear.