the cycles that we live in always seem
so narrow and so short we long for days
when we can walk the easy rural ways
in the warm light of the glistening beam
but what we ask for is what others deem
not quite enough we wonder at what rays
light other lives and what image stays
when we awaken from our nightly dream
not always is it cold we know the heat
will drive our age out and restore the mind
but what we have to see is where the sun
allows us to resume our regular beat
and what we have this year to leave behind
another season closer to being done
Odd ravings, comments, and other wastes of time. Some are in plain prose, yet others are in rhyme.
21 March 2007
flowers are everywhere
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