On This Soft Morning

 Bird house on the porch;
A nice home made piece of work;
(Never houses birds).

 

Rain shine on the leaves--
Footnote in the rising sun,
Of what is no more.

 

 Vines on my mailbox
Provide free decoration.
(It's poison ivy?!)

She stops for a talk;
He plops down on the road,
Any chance he gets.

Leaves fall so swiftly
I cannot photograph them.
(Must be camera shy).

Hand in hand they walk
Gently touching each other
On this soft morning.

Through the road it pops--
Feisty, tiny baby plant;
Complete with shadow.

Tall trees are bowing,
Worshiping the gentle breeze,
As we must do.