Remnants of Helene are in the Northeast with gray skies and rain
September is saying farewell
Poet’s walk must continue
Until she came upon an imperfectly placed artwork by her feet
Mother Nature’s wonder
Amber
Canary
Honey
Sunshine
Biscotti
Sepia
Fawn
Ruby
Burgundy
Cherry
Currant
Rose
M­ixed in with good measure
Splendidly arranged in Mother Nature’s Mosaic

Oh, come to me in dreams, my love!
   I will not ask a dearer bliss;
Come with the starry beams, my love,
   And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.

’Twas thus, as ancient fables tell,
   Love visited a Grecian maid,
Till she disturbed the sacred spell,
   And woke to find her hopes betrayed.

But gentle sleep shall veil my sight,
   And Psyche’s lamp shall darkling be,
When, in the visions of the night,
   Thou dost renew thy vows to me.

Then come to me in dreams, my love,
   I will not ask a dearer bliss;
Come with the starry beams, my love,
   And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.

1680

Sometimes with the Heart
Seldom with the Soul
Scarcer once with the Might
Few—love at all.

668

“Nature” is what we see—
The Hill—the Afternoon—
Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee—
Nay—Nature is Heaven—
Nature is what we hear—
The Bobolink—the Sea—
Thunder—the Cricket—
Nay—Nature is Harmony—
Nature is what we know—
Yet have no art to say—
So impotent Our Wisdom is
To her Simplicity.

Joy
Peace
Love
Kindness multiplied
Care
Sweetness
Happiness
Happy and Healthy New Year
If you celebrate or.not
Be careful
Be safe
Make choices good for all not some

Stars above,
glistening the sky.
Golden teardrops fall from high.
The weary moon begins to die,
As the city sings a silent lullaby.

The wind blows soft,
the leaves flow far.
The night falls and tumbles hard.
The stars align,
the moon now cries,
As the city sings a silent lullaby.

The sun slowly rises.
The stars slowly die.
The night loses feeling,
the day comes alive.
Morning creeps slowly,
night falls behind.
As the city sings a silent lullaby.

Life wears me out with its
twists and turns, and
hairpin curves.
I keep waiting for
a long, peaceful stretch
of a highway, bathed in
the rising sun.
A golden wheatfield to
to the left, a moss-covered
pond with dragonflies to
the right.
The road turns to gravel
and climbs rapidly uphill.
There are signs along the
way that promise the world.
The road gradually turns
to dirt and ultimately
disappears.

You build me with
turquoise and
the mountains of Taos.
Cerulean blue
serenity in my soul.
My heart chases
after you.
Even your chisel
helped me
grow through
the pain.
You
are the
grand artist,
The Supreme
sculpter.