
if one has to wait
there are worse places to be
for better or worse

if one has to wait
there are worse places to be
for better or worse

putting out flowers
remembering those who died
flyover of geese

off a busy street
an inviting gate beckons
leave the world behind
in the cool of evenings
come and walk with your Maker

between the branches
just below the hanging clouds
where the light resides