Ice cream, or a popsicle
An orange soda and a danish
While Gary tanked up the car
And made the windshield gleam
There are places of the past
We let go
To lie fallow and go to ground
Because we no longer need them
Once
Abandoned
Derelict
Unprofitable
Now
And so we believe ourselves conscious
When every pattern we create
Has already been created
In our unconscious
I think I erect boundaries
To protect myself from what’s not me
But my boundaries
Enclose me
And so I define myself
Not by what is me
But by what is not me
Leaving no other possibility
Compassion at the core
The heart glows orange
Embers fuel passion’s fire
Sunlight sifts through leafy boughs. Green-tinged, it swaddles the room with peaceful rays. Two walls of glass panes open to nature’s embrace. City streets and city worries seem far removed.
“Do you hear it?”
“What?”
“The sound.”
Should we grow too cocky
Nature, she will smile
With graceful power and beauty
Pix to Words 