At One Eighty Three

if tranquility
had an entrance
it would be this

Pilgrimage To The Squirrel Bench

worship as
an acorn eaten
a devotion left

On The Porch

in the peacefulness
it is possible
to dream as big as the sky

Shelter From The Blistering Sun

our beloved tree
a great green umbrella
offering shade and sanctuary

The Steel Heron Presides

ah April
with her sunshine and snow
everything waiting to see which way it goes

The Shadow Lace Of Bare Trees

sunshine rests
on the dormant garden’s
bench

Our Spot

I’ll meet you there
when the stars come out
and we’ll name them until dawn

They Are Dancing

from the bench
we watch
firefly flowers