These layers of living

These layers of living

Seasonal but still true 

In this fertile of green

Both parts yellow and blue

Giving then giving more

But trees often lose limbs

It comes as no surprise 

Sometimes it comes from trims

Again, it is not love

Again, it is not love

Just some sad beginning 

Of a dying beautiful 

Pausing constant spinning 

Behind our sets of eyes

Consequences or not

No longer on point and

Far from my centered spot

So long and then longer

So long and then longer

A Friday will follow

Then a week and decades

Centuries will swallow

Today not feeling well

Blue skies grow cloudy gray

This is an afternoon

On another Sunday

Songs pulled up like bedsheets

Songs pulled up like bedsheets

Dreams with bright flags waving

Arriving end of day

History engraving

Hologram emotions

Together filling space

Three dimensional moon

Existence full of grace

Happy as sycamore

Happy as sycamore

Resilient to weather

Shedding from a life lived

Tough grain locked together

A ripening fruit that

Softens in the winter

Good shelter for others 

And not prone to splinter

I swallowed a forest

I swallowed a forest

An ocean in my eyes

In a scarf of gray clouds

And a hat of blue skies

I waited for twilight 

Sundial in my hand

Useless without shadow

Tally marking the And

Crossing the park and road

Crossing the park and road

And into the doorway

Car headlights like comets

Cross the ceiling two-way

A streetlight cast shadows

Through the windows and door

Angular Mondrians

Bend from walls to the floor