
a piece of heaven
fallen but not forgotten
the source of being

a piece of heaven
fallen but not forgotten
the source of being

as the year draws close
each day becomes more precious
even clouds seem near

a hole in the clouds
a good place to drop a line
and reel in the sun
first light revealing
lines after lines of snow geese
writing in the sky
even blue stillness
broken by crisscrossing clouds
two washed-out contrails