Puddly Mirrors

Why does the sun hide
When I need it's morning cheer?
Inconsiderate!

 

There is a stillness;
Even leaves are not shaking
On this cloudy day.

 

 Each morning they point--
Yellow arrows on the road
To a past event.

So gently it drops,
Mist upon the tree tops,
Enveloping sound.

Puddly mirrors:

Always different reflections;
Always different skies.

Vine to the mail box
Climbing up to open it,
"Any mail for me?"

Mourning dove and fog;
Married in soft loneliness
On this late May morn.

Rain battered asters
Look very grumpy today,
Their petals askew.