The weight presses on my eyelids
Urging me to sleep.
Just a few more minutes
I'm almost finished.

The grandfather clock cried out in the hallway.
Just a few more minutes.
I know it's late, but I'd like to finish before I sleep.

The silent sound of snow cumulating on the world outside,
While I diligently work.

I open the curtain.
The sunset rising over my yard blanketed in cold crystals provides an astonishing light
To review my completed project.

It isn't perfect
But I am content.

A cacophony of bird songs
Shrieking among the firs
Two sparrows roosting on a branch,
Knitted feathers sever and fold
White waters roar through a craggy riverbed,
Alive with the scent of Spring
The hum of hornets emerging from a hollow tree,
A hidden hive
A lonely fawn tramples among the vegetation,
Desperate for a drink
Unopposed, a peculiar person rests upon a severed stump,
Discovering beauty for the first time

Find solace in solitude,
There is no shame in that.
We are unknown to ourselves
An ocean to which we delve.
Scarcely coming up for air,
Entangled in fathoms
Whirlpools of despair.
Waves of introspection
Spare us shallow reefs,
Yet cast us into darkness
And the horrors of the deep.

I still need to get her a present.
I'll stop at the florist on my way.
I know how much she loves flowers,
Especially on her birthday.

Three different types should suffice.
One daisy, as bright as the sun, for her personality.
One hydrangea, dark blue like the ocean waters, from our seaside cottage where we used to stay.
One rose, dark red like the setting sun, on the evening of our first kiss.

I head up a dirt road and through  a field of stones to meet her.

I leave the flowers on her grave, just like I do every year.

His sneakers **** on the concrete sidewalk of a busy boardwalk.
Time blows by as the faces around him come and go.
He glances up occasionally to observe the passersby, each writing a story.
The master of fate walks among the quick.
With each turn of the street his own adventure is being written.
Each decision marks another chapter in the book of life.
The world is a soft metal malleable to forge; an apple tree, teeming with fruit.
Every choice blazes a new trail with infinite possibilities.
Pondering ceases and he glances around.
The boardwalk is crowded with individuals, each, masters of their own fate.

Walking slowly, I enter the kitchen
I have been here before, but this time is different
Alone on the table a cheeseburger rests
Unattended
I glance both ways weighing my options
The burger is fresh and dripping with juices
Thinking ceases and instinct enacts
Within seconds the beautiful sandwich is gone
Stomach full, I lie on the floor
Guilt sets in
I have been a bad dog.

A lone drop of coffee
Running down the side
Of my cup
Escaping the terror
Of teeth and tongue

Black gold in the morning
A precious liquid
Awakes me from a slumber
And brightens my day
Sip by sip

Rejuvenates the body,
Mind and soul
Caffeine flows
Through my veins

Motivation in a mug
Brewing is an art
Coffee so dark
It can wake the dead
But instead
Wakes me
Every morning