With a gentle voice
            Like blankets
         Fall

    Midst stars from flowing ceilings
  Glow
      With residing smile

          Into blackness of fear
     Unbeknownst no more
              Know

   What is joy
         To be a joyful sunset
     In the day of your child's life

I need you for some love
and at the kitchen table
All love for the world
and unhindered by me
Fish on a Tuesday
my papers all over
Your eyes my dance
with thoughts to feel
My heart your keep
with solutions to view
Head wind is not the
prevailing kind where
fore your mind ought
to be the rock of us when
the days wash away,
over me, bleak rainbow.

[After reading: ''He's all pine and I'm an apple orchard'']

dust, wood
the ground grows soft there
a sheet of pine needles
footprints etched into
the chestnut hues of autumnal life
softly the air gives way to raindrops
feeding the trees,
their steeples covering
creatures who wander their corridor
merging into the tarmac
stippled with pebbles
and freckles of water and fire

an orange in the morning
yellowy sunlight sets through
the clouds, blueing up the sky
gets the green in another dimension
gets an evening red that glows
up trees in Mondrian's blue and violet.
But the moment I open my eyes I
feel the winter grey I'm not good
at. The desert deserting the ocean.
The gusts and waves through a coat.
So in black I draw the shades
around the heart, heeding for the
white light of Sun and Moon discs
always. The stars out of reach,
one can only see the seven rainbow
colours through the water drops
once a strange new day has begun
once the sand dunes start to move.
I cannot control foreshadows
I cannot measure the shifts of dunes.