when the sun goes down
behind the trees
and locks her shutters tight

the moon comes out
with silver keys
to open up the night

I wish I was a poet
But I'm just another person who learned that puting the letters of the alphabet together, forms words.

all morning
the cold mists

jeweled tiny pools
upon the stubborn grass

of december
silvering

a single blade
a single strand

of a spider’s web
simply sparking the grey

of the day
away


life can be like that sometimes


obstinately one side
of the coin

one minute
then joyously the other

one secret second
later