wandering the creek aching for the creek of our childhood when we played on the bank chasing butterflies
after the storm on the ground around the tree children picking apples from puddles
on a winter day beneath a bright blue sky a boy walking alone and cold across a frozen pond
in the sky tonight the Space Station flashing brighter than most stars reminds me how good it feels to be so close to home
lightning thunder a peculiar smell in the air as rain begins to fall
golden sunset – a distant train whistle sounds so mournful as the wind blows and leaves fall all around
not yet light but the birds are singing to each other after such a long night in darkness waiting
falling leaves make me happy because bare trees make it easier to see the sky
the bomb did not explode – no one was killed – wouldn’t it be great if all headlines read this way?
in a cave water dripping into a dark puddle that no one sees or hears
