The willow hangs,
drapes the ground,
dances to a tune
unheard in the hum
of cars and lorries,
in the commotion of
people passing in a
hurry, barely noticing
anything more than the
phones tapped with
fingers & thumbs.
But I notice,
I see it all,
the dance on display,
the symbol of sanity
I need today.

The  first  snowfall  of  the  winter  as  begun.
Large  fluffy  flakes  chasing  each  other  to  the  ground.
Everyone  rushes  Indoors  as  if  it  was  the  plague.

The  trees  and  bushes  look  fine.
Decked  out  in  their  winter  finery
The  birds  carry  on  regardless.
They  are  such  hardy  souls.

Tomorrow  will  be  the  great  scrape  and  brush.
To  get  things  going  again.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2016.

The  farmer  sows  his  seed.
Hoping  for  a  good  crop.

As  the  saying  goes.
A  wet  and  windy  May.
Fills  the  barn  with  corn  and  hay.

May  is  germination  time.
He  prays  for  wet  and  windy  May.
But  we  hope  for  nice  sunny, Spring  weather.

It's  the  same  in  life  you  see.
We  must  sow  our  seeds.
To  reach  our   goals.

The  secret  is.
Never  to  give  up, just  keep  going.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere. UK  2016.

Chaos mixed with uncertainty
stirred by a random spoon,
like one of those digital billboards
that you drive by too fast to read.

  ~mce

I  walk  slowly  down  the  winding  path
of  my  lovely  summer  garden.

I  admire  the  blushing  roses
kissed  by  the  overnight  rain.

The  air  is  warmed
by  the  bright-faced  sun.

Many  bright  fragrant  blossoms
bloom  beneath  the  orchard  wall.

The  sun  flickers  through  the  fruit  trees
making  pretty  patterns  on  the  mown  grass.

I  then  sit  quietly
where  the  sun  burns  you  a  deep  brown.

Yes,  summer  is  wonderful
but  alas  it's  soon  gone.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2016.

Hopes, dreams
And any thought
Of a future,
Cast by the side
Of the road,
Among broken bones
That never learnt
To dance
Or kiss
Or love
Or lose,
The way we've
Suddenly,
Brutally,
Learnt.
A small broken body
Breeding broken
Hearts.

I am the queen of what ifs
Sitting on a throne of could've beens

My fears are my loyal subjects
Escorting my dreams to the gallows

My ambitions are now prisoners
To my court of procrastination

I, the queen
Reign over all of this regret