at the edge of night vultures circle the bones of another day leaving me one sunset closer to my grave
After a very long day, as I watch the sun sink into the mountains, vultures wheel silently through smoky skies, circling the small Wyoming town I call home. Sometimes Nature knows exactly how I feel.
the cheer of lemon petals radiates from cerise centers and floats on summer breezes that carry meadowlark melodies; music written by the soul of nature for the open hearts that hear her love
the bones of a poem ride on the storm that bellows through wood-fired red skies and they rattle all night but with dawn's light i release them as butterflies
sometimes people are toxic but since they don't have fangs their poison must be ingested and thus their power does wane for we have the freedom of choice when blighted words waft our way to listen and swallow their venom or simply to walk away