.post-body entry-content { margin-top: 15px; margin-bottom: 15px; }

Thursday, December 01, 2016

Just Biding Its Time









It's December first;
The twelfth month is called the tenth;
A calendar trick.













Brown light on bushes;
Forsythia's yellow--gone,
To join the brown leaves.






















Yesterday's rain fall--
Today's turbulent rushing--
Liquid persistence.
















Suspended in space
Brown leaves float on the water,
Just biding their time.















He's walking slowly;
Full of his thoughts and feelings--
Just like me, I guess.















Nestled in the crotch
Of the slender triplet trees:
Pine needles and leaves.

















Barely visible
Decrepit stone wall stretches
To places unknown.


















Underneath this mound
Lies a former living space--
Graveyard for a house.







































































No comments: