Bright October 2020c

   october was 
   no surprise.
see it happen!
   like last time

      as i passed,
goat on a grassy roof,
we were more than
   a bit surprised.

    no tears needed
rain is predicted,
   time passes so
slowly, unnoticed.

october's gone;
around an
   icy corner.

it goes right by:
a peapod boat
in a trickle
   of a stream.


Grey Tones

heading for oblivion,
      we race along 
   a lonely highway.

      why do we smile?
   fools have no wings,
reaching for the sun, 

an old broken chariot,
      swinging across
   a summer sky.

      we look for safety,
and it still eludes us;
   we are so reckless.

      colours fade
      in our eyes
      just before
darkness comes.

   we are left with
black and white
      and shadows.

      i look south
   along the lake

   my little dog,
      hiking friend
when i see this

      i guess he
saw no colour.
his foolishness
      was limited
   to trusting me.
we have no limit.

Pond in the Trees

Pond in the Trees

   a few footsteps
      and i enter
this other world.

passing through
      pine trees,
   i see a pond,

   some place 
a turtle might

maybe a few 
      small fish
   swim there,

   big mallard 
ducks, ducking
      for food.

   i don't know
what they eat.

   i assumed 
      they ate

   but there, 
      it was

      i hear their
droning attack. 

   and know it.
   my time has 
come - to leave.

A Little Rain

   a little rain
      has never
hurt me much.

   always I've
      dried out
and carried on.

      i am not safe
from drowning,
   but i have not
   done that yet.

      history may
guide us if we're 
   wise enough.

we know it isn't a 
      perfect guide,
but it can help
   save us from
serious errors .

   rain washes
the windows,
   as i look out
this cold, damp
      autumn day.

   a little rain
      has never
hurt me much.

Remembering the Fallen

crushed and broken, 
   somehow beautiful,
its function passed.

providing nutrients
today, and on into
   tomorrow and

this maple leaf
   will one day
   be forgotten
and so will i.

my fathers do not
   stand tall 

   though, in their
day, they struggled
sometimes bravely
      such is life
   and living.

   something was
beautiful, although
   no memories

      a time shall
surely come, when
i am nothing more:
   a fuzzy memory, 
and someone may
be remembering
      the fallen.