The old cabin
has a window
overlooking a lake.
hidden in summer
when trees are dressed...
yet ever so present
once Autumn arrives...
it doesn't take her long
to make a date
with old man winter..
Their lovers you know..
(doesn't everyone know?)
she sends him autum kisses
made of leaves
dancing in the cold winds..
(she left a few for me
tucked on the window)
Just before He arrives
she changes scenery..
(green is not
her favorite color..)
she paints leaves red
yellow and brown
orange..even purple..
then she strips the folage
to prove her promice
of dancing naked
into winter...
I have been told
in late September
the old man stands
at this window
watching Her ......

Beyond the hill
on the edge of town
overlooking a graveyard..
a rest home sits...
as if hidden by
those who care
not to see....
many years ago
i worked there...
the sadness
broke my heart..
silent tears
of broken spirits...
still burn my ears..
My eyes
looking in their eyes...
saw many things.
Grown children
once trusted and loved
refused to visit..
could not visit...
yet gladly spent
money their parents
sacrificed to save
for old age....
to save their children
the hastle of
a rest home's chores...
they say
if you sit
nieth the hill
you can see
the tears
as Angels
catch them
in golden cups
for God...

at the top of the hill
above daisys blooming..
is a tiny graveyard..
surrounded by
a rusty fence..
the gate has no road....
one must walk the path.
from the meadow below
it seems
to touch the clouds...
There a poet sleeps
on pillows of words
100 years
of buried time...
I go there
hoping to hear
the words
lingering
in the wind..
that speak only
to those
who hear
such things...
where the wind
whispers thoughts.....
long forgotten.

high in the sky
beyond the clouds
past the moon
Angels pick flowers
made of prayers..
giving them
to God.
I have been told
(in my dream's)
the flowers cover
all the land
in Heaven...
And God
keeps all flowers
the Angels bring Him
pressing them
In sacred books
like treasures....

At the top of a hill
close to the county line
i found her falling...
A house
that once held
laughter and tears...
so silently she seemed
to be dying..
surround by fencelines
and weeds...
the old barn
stronger than her
faithfully stood
at her side...
His memories too
have been many.....
the rust on the silos
spoke of time
standing still
against blue skies...........
and the reaping of
seeds once sowed
on furtile land.
.