
the leaves are falling
trees will soon show their bare limbs
they begin to blush
–photo by me

the leaves are falling
trees will soon show their bare limbs
they begin to blush
–photo by me

–photo by my son

who are you?
people like to tell you
who you are;
these people weren’t
born with some knowledge
that you weren’t.
never swallow the rocks
they’ve dished
up for you–
don’t believe them,
don’t believe me,
believe in yourself.
–photo by me

no troops here
no refugees, no walls
no children in cages–
just the peaceful
rainy river on the
u.s./canadian border
i could swim
there and back
and nobody
would care
–photo by me

I thought I knew what love was
Until I watched a father push his crippled son
the entire length of a marathon, 26.2 miles,
in a home-made bed on wheels
I thought I knew what love was
–photo by me

trees come alive
when they die,
or they become
much more useful
when they’re dead;
whether they’re
providing a home
for small birds
and squirrels
in the wilds or
providing wood
for us to build
our own homes,
they’ve answered
a higher calling,
no longer only
providing shade.
–photo by me

the path to the pines
is the yellow brick road to
emerald city
–photo by me

the storm arrives just as the sun set
–photo by me

a partridge plays dead–
his act, dead on, but his eyes,
a dead giveaway
–photo by me

–photo by me