Listen to the leaves,
to the beating of your heart
and sing to the moon.
10/21/2005 Writers’ Group
Sing to the sun, sing to the stars.
It's time to go, to catch up,
to smell the roses.
Lemon spice, the names of roses
disintegrating into the mind,
into the senses, a bouquet of thought.
Listen to the falling sycamore leaves,
crimson against the pavements gray.
Starfish hands grasping the air,
lightly dancing down the street
like the scurrying of small rodent feet.
Once I dreamed that the fall leaves
turned into carnivorous beasts
like strange lizards nipping at our heels
driving us out into the light.
10/21/2005 Writers’ Group
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