







heron alights at water’s edge,
becoming a statue.







Let the flood sweep
one away — out
of the shallows,
into the deeps.
Don’t ever cry;
Don’t ever weep;
Just feel the speed
Carry one on.

Rainy December day
blows in - not long to stay.
From season to season,
without any reason,
sometimes we feel the fray.

The chill is here.
The sky never
bluer.
The colors turn,
with leaves ever
fewer.
Until a last
hanger-on yields
to a weak breeze.

breeze-twisted leaves
catch the sunlight of an
Autumn afternoon.

each passing day
more yellow carpets the ground,
more blue shows through.