Windy Night

Wind disturbs the leaves

yet it is not the trees who

search for a reprieve.



From the kitchen door,

I catch pairs of tiny eyes

peeking through the pane.


Better Red

Roses in autumn

remind trees who lost their green

the beauty of red.



I most enjoy walks

through these warm, grassy fields

carrying my shoes.



The syrup drips down

the sides of her tender wrists

as she lifts her fork.


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