the darkening hills a triumvirate of crows in the glowing gloom

she watches him as if the fault were in her eyes poor shorn Sampson withered hands grip the canes that barely hold the frail reflect…

Pappa always told me that you should never tell all you… and I found it to be good advice I recall the time I got back from… with my winter stores back in ‘39

death is absence of thought - zen how can we be afraid of something we cannot live to experience? it’s life that is frightening

surf and turf of St. Andrews olde salts and bullshit under one blue tarp gossip thick as molasses sparks quick as match-lit gas

Snowflakes or fireflies Beneath an oval moon Do I wake or dream?

Empty moorings and Quiet lighthouse watch the bay Crawl back to the sea

There is an even-handed justice in… No senility forgiven, but caught a… Blood and flesh, bone and marrow To feed the life of another, And back to the earth that gave it…

Time for a pit stop Half face in rear view mirror Road unwound behind

I am a tree beside the water my ancient roots run deep and wide in Mother Earth as one body dies

pillars of sunshine through cloud - heavenly suburb under construction

last night the winter world transformed to summer’s sphere fireflies in the night their aimless paths alight

summer is ending following the rolling sun quite without remorse