 |
|
|
  |
| |
| |
Still, silent morning
Leaves of trees dappled by morning sunshine
A jet roars overhead
Destroying the silence of the sky.
Lengthening shadows of September
Promising changes to come
Promising the trees, the birds, the little critters, the mighty humans living down below
Crystal autumn mornings.
Cicyadas chirp of cold and frost and color and leaves dropping to the ground
The end to this world, the beginning of the next
Soon, very soon.
Ten, fifteen, twenty years from now
All of this will still be here
And I will be gone.
|
|
|
Got a Buck? 
