Ripe apples falling
Upon auburn crunchy leaves...

Rain drops from above
Gently quench a dry meadow...

Everything makes more sense
when it rains...

Stifling and torrid was
the day you passed...

I’d like to sail the ocean
but i’m sealed...

This empty atrium
has a high ceiling...

The river flows,
flows like a tear...

Snowflakes landing
Over the mud littered path...

Her dark crystal hair
Stands out on the limpid sea...

Weary and beaten
Yet vastly firm...

Of smoke and sand
saltiness between cement...

Sometimes I sit down to write
But my hands are firm...