The beauty of the world is the music it creates.

These beautiful corpses Decaying on the grass These once emerald symbols Of seasons now past, The fierce red The frightened yellow The accepting orange Each joins their fellow For their ultimate end Right here and now None can cling forever To the trees’ boughs, One by one Each of them flies Towards the ground Where ...

I put feet to pavement.Rivulets of melted snowcascade in the gulley.I run at its paceadmiring the claritybeauty, and purityof the water.we both proceed swiftlyin the same direction. Motivation is fickle.Clear, blue skies lureme outside for a run.I crave sunshine and grapesI run toward Springbut the snow meltsaway from it.Still, we run in the same direction ...

The road is wet butcrystals adorn my windowSnow falls on the ridge.Like curtains, it opens to reveal winter’s intentions.

Trees and grass, the Bay mare’s protection One spring night.   Breathing heavily – No wind, No threat in sight.   Her colt lies beside her, Touching noses.

The broken roses Bleed onto the garden ground Winter is their end.

Like the morning bird, You bid me farewell once dawn Has died with the day

The woods sleep with snow My ears listen for spring birds, My eyes long for you As I sit by the window Wishing you could come again

The earth was muddy, My boots let impression by Your silent summer grave, I said goodbye long ago, We departed with the sun.

The moon lives in dark Human minds dwell in sweet sins We smile with the sun