A thousand tiny paper cuts
brought him here to death
The vengeful words
of his angry thoughts
expired with his final breath

To walk in the woods in Autumn
is to feel it’s tired old soul
As it prepares for another long nap
the seasons have taken their toll
The leaves wave goodbye to their neighbors
as they harmlessly
float to the ground
There isn’t enough water
running by the old mill
to move the wheel around
It gives me pause for reflection
of how I’m in awe of it all
Living on the cusp of Winter
as everything slows to a crawl

I'd like        
to float on cotton
amidst the clouds
up high
Sleeping through
all the world's noise
as if  
it were a lullaby

Walking through a field
lush with wildflowers
Making my way
towards a warm setting sun
A vision of death
or a flight of fantasy
Only time
will tell which one

Confront the wolf
that nips at your heels
if you grow weary
of running
You can always keep trying
to outrun the beast
but, it’s faster than you
and more cunning

This simple act
has become a pact
I have with the kitchen floor
I sweep it several times a day
because it’s keeping score
It knows when I sweep it often
It knows when I sweep it not
And when it feels neglected
it gets slippery in spots
I have many other things to do
than Tango with the broom
but, my floor would rather see us dance
all across the room

Pain makes
narcissists of us all
Only Jesus