Crawling
• 02/09/24 at 09:43PM •Crawling from the ground,
at night.
Staying there until dawns
early light.
Night crawlers, what
they are,
feeding at night, under moon
and star.
Crawling from the ground,
at night.
Staying there until dawns
early light.
Night crawlers, what
they are,
feeding at night, under moon
and star.
No wind this morning,
it's cool outside the door,
perhaps it won't rain.
We don't need any more.
An occasional event,
during a mind on the run.
Running to daylight,
before the night is done.
Wind in the Willows,
shaking limbs of trees,
a freshet burst of wind,
a very strong breeze.
Soon Spring will come.
A time to sip the wine,
enjoying Nature's beauty,
the beautiful Columbine.
A withered rose,
it's life now spent,
after struggling,
when grown in cement.
Look at me.
How pretty I was.
Now here I am,
once pretty, now dust.
A Rose,
solo flower.
sprang forth
from a
crack, in
the pavement.
A lovely break,
or Nature's way
of mystery.
I wrote this 6 years ago, a different time, a different style
The Olympic Range cuts through the sky
like an unsharpened saw.
Jagged, snow covered edges, tears the
blue velvet sky,
as sunlight's reflection blinds a curious eye.
Outward the wind,
in a matrix throw.
Returning to you,
in a bigger blow.
Winds, a blast,
rattling against
a windowpane,
rain trickles,
over sash
and sill.
We should wait,
never will.
The rain splattered
the river danced,
as rain fell it was
Nature's romance.
Air to rain,
water to soil,
makes me happy
and my blood to boil.
Light of morning,
Light so bright,
Light is coming,
Holding back the night.
Wandering the path,
in wood and plain,
across green meadows,
I travel once again.
Over moss covered logs,
across creeks rushing,
over lichen covered rocks,
makes my heart sing.