Snow capped mountain peaks , murmurations in sapphire skies ..Cloud banks seeking the closure of fallen rain , Redwoods at the whim of surging winds , yet we continually seek to disprove the presence of miracles to no end ..

I refuse to dream again
It only leads to pain
There is no truth therein
Whatever some may say
It's all tricks of the mind
And then in the light of day
Whenever I open my eyes
Reality is still grey

                             By Phil Roberts

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.

I could never
be married
to myself.
We just aren't
that compatible.

  ~mce

Life is a huge prison,
My imagination endless as much as universe,
But you are unreachable still.

Throwing rocks into the winter river.
Ice as thin as a child's soul's skin
Carries not the weight
Of History's oldest weapon.

Like a paperless poem it shatters,
Floating away with the fleeing stream.
Water needs no windows.
Nothing is outside to its within.