Fallen leaves
in many hues
lying everywhere
in the water
on the grass
blowing to the breeze.
Whispering songs
over the crickets
and the gurgles of the stream.

Songs of the fallen leaves
of coming wisps of winter
cold winds under autumn moon
and memories of warm summers.

Fallen leaves
in many hues
singing many songs.

And the cricket sang
Trilling
Into the night
The moon shone through branches
My thoughts fluttered
Between sound and light

Along the shore
I walked
under the inky sky
waves crashed around me
A  sound of thousand hands
clapping at once
over and over.

And the whoosh
of the spreading sea
cool on my feet
washing away
the footprints of my past
in the wet sand.

Must have walked long
feel tired now.
Distant thoughts
and memories
spindle away
gossamer threads
fading from sight.

I see now a shimmer
yes, a beacon of hope.
Trudge on in the gathering light
With a promise to
rest a while, renew my strength
at the end of it.

The shadows dance and give way
I see in its ascendance
A sunlit path.
I open  my eyes and feel the warmth
of the rising sun on my face
through the window.
And the birds sing on a spring morning.
Another day has begun.

Wild geese.
In my backyard.
What joy it be
To be free
To take wing
Ride on wind and waft
Land to whim and fancy
Lay down a dream
On a sandy shore
or by a mountain tarn
For a day, perhaps more.

I am
like the nut
that's fallen into
a ***** crack.

The invisible hand
tries
but cannot reach
to prise
this nut
to a normal life.

it is so sad to know
of the dreams that wont
come true.
it is so to know that
delicate things have disappeared
in the world
for want of a little love.
and of the feeble voices
that have been smothered
were in need of a little strength.
The meek shall inherit
the earth
in a universe where
the constants spare
moments to celebrate
the faint and the unheard.

Dreams
Beautiful dreams
breath of cool air on summer mornings
rustle of leaves in a spring breeze
moon rising over the mountains
waves beating a rhythm on a lonesome beach
and of lying under the stars.

What a nightmare!
Life is.

Pond heron ponders
Fish hide in the reeds
Morning lies still.