
hanging on a wall
in the depths of a building
light still finds a way

hanging on a wall
in the depths of a building
light still finds a way

grey November mist
bringing that autumn feeling
surprised by the warmth

top of the morning
a mockingbird on its perch
belting out its song

waking to the rain
falling on dead and alive
good and bad alike
everything belonging
in this evolving worldview

leaves on the front porch
a gift from the neighbor’s tree
air mailed overnight