As Time Grows Old

I have wept for some doors that have been shut.

For the remembrance of circling crows, the slightly ajar iron gates that house the long ago, dead.

For the remembrance of four legged siblings…true to themselves and unabashed. I relive their memory…everyday.

Oh, the wonder years, living among loose chickens and lazy llamas.

The dead end dirty and dusky roads that had lay before me.

Those lanes with promise of green, glistering, fields.

I have wept for the Shakers, the dance, the waves of neighbors passing, as time grows old.

A Winter’s Flower

a winters flower 4

A winter’s flower.

How do I disgrace thee.

When you provide me with such symmetry.

An all seasons charm.

Winter’s flower.

How could I not seek but always see.

And, though the footpath is slow

to where you are.

The earthen tones splendor like a distant star.

Winter’s flower by Tree Farm Loop…

take a left off Baptist Hill road.

Near where the Shakers grow old.