Morning Meadow

night is banished
now is
light’s time to play

Shade Garden

each bloom
a beacon
of light

It Was The Thorns

the small pink rose
shed
two tiny tears

Simplicity As Palette

the hosta
is a minimalist
with a grand presentation of form

Ruffles

edged in pink
a little frill
on leaves

The Poet Sunshine

the flowers’ shadows
write their own poem
on the book’s pages

Vestiges

nestled between
the snow and log
late fall’s remains

Still Life’s Motion

what holds
the snowflake to the leaf
but hope and faithful buoyancy

Flame

ablaze
with color
tribute to summer

Fall Approaches

as everything changes
keep flowering
as long as you can

One of Many

the shadow reveals
another definition
of self

Proximity

missive
from the future
fall’s imminence

This Humble Paradise

pause and let
time expand into
beauty’s forever unfolding

To Be Chosen

flowers await
their moment
in the sun

Summer’s Best Friend

take shelter
in the sweet shade
of the dear old tree

Everything Rises

as morning sidles
to the edge of the garden
the gingko bows to the day

Apparel

rock wall in
a yellow rain slicker
dressed by April rain

Namaste

buddha
in the morning sun
all is one

Frontline

throughout
winter’s long march
positions held for spring

Thin Ice

suspended on
the surface of things
seeking a breakthrough