
i savor the flavor
of butterscotch skies
with brown sugar clouds
in a buttery blend
i stir up the syrup
my finger held high
and slide the sun down
as another day ends
–photo by me

i savor the flavor
of butterscotch skies
with brown sugar clouds
in a buttery blend
i stir up the syrup
my finger held high
and slide the sun down
as another day ends
–photo by me

the old year
fades and disappears–
what will the
new year bring?
just like all the other years:
more of everything
–photo by me

i call him a weasel or stoat
while others say ermine, i note,
but we all agree
he’s as cute as can be
as he stands in his little white coat
–photo by me

clearly impotent,
the blushing sun hides his face
in the trees all day
–photo by me

silhouettes complement
the light, wispy skies
like jet black mascara
over pale blue eyes
–photo by me

we’re all born into
the one and only true faith–
just ask anyone
–photo by me

when winter temps decline,
the harbor freezes twice:
seemingly in time
and certainly in ice
–photo by me

the great mystery
of the cosmos was revealed
to me in a dream–
it’s gone now, but i recall
that i couldn’t stop laughing
–photo by me

they say that the canada jays
are true to canadian ways:
they have fluffy feathers
for very cold weather
and nest in the coldest of days
–photo by me

a top predator,
he’s at the top of his game
in the top of a tree–
yet ‘the top’ is not for all;
i hear that it’s lonely there
–photo by me