Town crier on tender

Town crier on tender

Nights willing to listen

Shouts avoiding shutters

Words so loud they glisten

Verses mere c’est la vie

Perched butterfly flapping

Not moving onward but

Pondering the grasping

The harvest hangs heavy

The harvest hangs heavy

The golden light is gray

The monarchs have moved on

The geese are on their way

A preview of autumn

It is always the same

Except for the newer

And the fewer we name

A table and a chair

A table and a chair

Someone is left standing

If the point is to gain

Deeper understanding

Can we walk together

Sit closely side by side

Common is the weather

As moments coincide 

Words in wrapping paper

Words in wrapping paper

Torn up and tossed aside

I guess it is the thought

That counts and cannot hide

Children making handprints 

With rain left from a storm

Here hoping they will last

In some old fashioned form

The narrow path widens

The narrow path widens

Slim pickings to frontier

A shepherd without flock

The self to commandeer

From slip to an ocean  

Definitions to doubts

Symbols to abstractions

Pinpoints to thereabouts 

All the tenses are here

All the tenses are here

Soap bubble swirls and floats

Paint colors on houses

Outdated winter coats

The days in charcoal sketch

Old age in craquelure

Experience matters

Says a childhood mature

Building themselves bunkers

Building themselves bunkers

Some of the mice are rats

Doctor Frankenstein’s school

Building GPT chats

And destructive weapons

Out of their own control

While building surveillance 

Masses under patrol