Strolling (for Lucy)

Strolling

Lucy has moonbeams in her eyes.
She spots the plane before the sound that follows.
Her small world passes by as we stroll,
forever new.
Safe in the embrace of strong arms, she looks down upon
the uncertain sunset path.
High above, the moon embraces the Earths pull,
and showers moonbeams over an uncertain world.

Thursday, Aug. 26th 2004

Wildflowers

Wildflowers.

So brief the summer.
So sharp the fall winds
that wake the dying soul.
So warm the season when
selfish beauty binds the senses.
Distracted.
Unable to hear the call.
Winter ends the wildflower's stand.
Forgotten memories of time ill-spent
wither into the frosted earth.