When the afternoon melts into dusk and evening is on the rise
new dreams are born in shadows and cloud forms
as old dreams disperse with the day.
At the charming roadside stand wait
garden embellishments for tourists.
Paper weights for memories.
Glimmering in the sun.
Hungering for fenders.
The morning mist is a curtain
waiting to be pulled open by the sun
revealing the action of the day.
Ancient acorn woman
wanders the forest floor
tends the wild rose
Mother Nature’s remnants
speak to me
of the secret lives in the forest
The post marries the beam
after a courtship of hand hewing and attention to detail
that seats them perfectly together
forever supporting one another.
I live in art.
painted my sky.