No single leaf falls
without a sound -
even if no one's
around to listen -
the ground hears it,
the critters, too
Some days, the forest music
shimmers uncertain:
like buds in Spring
the ice of Winter
the crunch of Autumn
the breeze of Summer
So we meander in,
quiet, and wander along,
with ears open, hoping
for song
A twisting story
of dead flowers and of vines
twines through the backyard
The first in a phase,
a New Moon silhouetted,
bent against the sky
Constellations swirl
in cosmic dust; all of us
together as one
Fingertip measure:
peppercorn and other spice
give pep to the dish
'tis the season
for neither rhyme
nor reason — no, wait —
I rhymed that line that time —
oh darn, and there I go again —
forgive me, my friend,
and allow me to make amends —
oops, well, I suppose
it's a songwriter's curse,
and what's worse is that
I actually tried —
no, wait, hold that:
I lied
for #ds106 Daily Create
Neither a rat race
nor snail's pace – we walk along
keeping our own pace
Sunshine deception:
what looks warm from the inside
chills you on the out
for Algot
The water whispers
mist – a kettle of white tea
cooling in a cup
Wander with intent;
Somewhere, hides a small clover
in a field of green