Her hair red like soil
And eyes green like springs clover
Skin sun-kissed and dotted like stars in the night sky
And man oh man
Her imagination was endless
And words constantly dripping from her tongue
Her smile never fading
She talked to the trees and the flowers
She was lonely and they were her company
I am in love with every last bit of her
The way she sniffed the air
To smell all the beautiful smells of the crisp cold breeze of fall
The way she nibbles at chocolate and sips tea
when she studies
She's clever and bright
Her mind is worth its weight in gold
And there aren't enough words to describe
The comfort I feel when she graces me with her presence

Three poplars grow along the river bank,
Three poplars reflected in the current,
Past is paint and the future is a blank
Canvas framed with poplar wood recurrent,
Reeds sway silently,
Tree trunks climb crooked,
Colors blur like smoky clouds unfurling
Colors blurring cloudy smoke rings spread
Across a pastel sky. Autumnal swirl
in kingly golden glow—presages:
Brush be quick / the sun dips / the light changes
Capture it before it rearranges!

The chimps are fighting the bonobos
on the jungle floor
I wanna elevate the game
so they can see there's something more
above their head if they dare see -
bananas hanging in them trees
instead of just runnin' around flinging feces
if they just keep their chin up they would see....

Look up, you monkey!

𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾,𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒

𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌

𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺,𝗌𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽;

𝗌𝗒𝗅𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌

𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗓𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌

𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝖾-𝖽𝖺𝗐𝗇 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾

'𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋;

𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗑𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗁𝗈𝗎𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗌

𝗌𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗎𝖻𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽;

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾

𝗈'𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌

𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽

𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾,𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

^^

Here in the dusk while the light falls away,
comes the night in it's wake
I am wrapped in the nothings of a wintery gale

At my neck and my ear rush it's wintery song
I am coldly embraced, although never for long

Here where the roads harbour hardly a soul
Where the bramble and the briars are frozen and blown
Here where the rains move in curtains of silk-
curtains of light, beating and beating at the edges of night

Here where the pines in their thrashing and throes
In their fits and their starts and their sea-sounding odes..
..they are after my heart, they are leaning and thrown
beneath arctic white stars

As the leaves crunch beneath my feet,
and the trees weep their now yellow leaves.
I'm filled with glee as I feel the cold breeze,
don't let Fall end, please.
Because the weather is nice,
and our house will be warm.
The chimney will smoke,
as the fire is born.
We'll be surrounded by friends,
and our family will swarm.

But you'll hear the pleas,
for the weather to be warm.
It'll come from the families whose clothes are torn.
So if it'll stop them from freezing,
stop the children from wheezing,
I guess you can stop
the cold Fall's breezing...

Sleepless nights when I was young,
fond times - I reminisce;
though many I cannot recall,
there is one I truly miss:

Midnight mass at the cathedral,
the echo of sung hymns;
growing restless in the pew,
as the candles all burned dim.

Still of the night - heavy silence,
white flake now falling  swift;
plumes of smoke from chimneys,
and in windows stood trees lit.

Waiting in suspense - so eager,
in my bed under the sheets;
hearing  the howl of a winter's gale
blustering against the eaves.

Old Saint Nick would soon arrive,
with his sleigh and sack of gifts;
bringing joy to all boys and girls,
and crossing names off His list.

But now I have aged and withered,
and so Christmas has lost its glow;
on its Eve I still remain awake,
and watch the falling snow.