Rain, gentle and slow
Without a thought. Or worry.
For the distant train.

Every morning
And every evening passing
What does it mean

Light on a table
Dim and yellow
Rain at the window

We are
Just
Potential.

so many photos
of you and me together.
Happy.

a slow, tired dog
and his master waiting, cold
not best friends.

the old fireplace
welcomes us, cold and tired.
crackling, softly.

dark grey against blue
miles away still from this prairie
jagged, cold horizon.

one bold sentence.
read with a silent smile.
echos my mind still.

books, musty from age
in this silent, sacred place
minds, open wide.

evening, late autumn
pale blue sky and no stars
all the birds silent

rumble on the tracks
a distant train - its horn
cuts through the cold night.

Not just
A new chapter
Burning the book.

A lone cyclist
Rides faster than the cars
Clear winter evening

Left, right. Right, left.
Strangers once walking now dancing.
Excuse me...no,excuse ME.

I quit.
Or rather, i will work tmorrow
Somewhere else.

the emptiness of being apart
Makes us remember.

words in an email
Anxiety delivered

Books on the table
Disheveled as my hair
Spilled coffee

a cool stream rushes
over my feet and toes
setting sun, light breeze.

At dawn from the hill
a fog hangs in the valley
thunder rolls slowly.

alone on the path
a slow mile walked in the forest
to greet the morning

a watch shows the time
ticking, slipping, fading, gone.
be present and live.

Morning city street
The masses going to work
Monks pray for them, too

A busy cafe
Business men in a hurry
As i sit, sipping.