The time space leaves.

There is time for times.

There is space for spaces.

There is room for rooms.

There are leaves to leave.

There are figures to figure,

There are pieces to peace.

what comes from above?

I watched the sky above

Waiting for clouds to send anything but love.

I looked up waiting to fail

Waiting for the hail...

The darkness of clouds, the billow, the roll

Waiting and watching for a storm that never would toll

I watched the sky above

Waiting for mountains of love

I looked up beaming with success

Waiting for....

The sunshine, the pop, the fizzle

Waiting and watching for a glow and no drizzle.

But the sky doesn’t produce love, success or failure.

No matter the season, all the sky can produce is weather.

haunted

Ghosts of silver and shine

Ghosts of oak and pine

Gracious ghosts of what I thought was mine.

Fall

“The land is settling into an easy evening, and into that season where everything that has risen up prepares to fade and fall, this death blanketing last year’s death.  The land is at ease with the idea of mortality.  But the sky...cumulonimbus clouds are stacked and banked to the stratosphere, and the lowering sun has bronzed and brassed and blushed them.  These are clouds that make you long for wings.  
-Michael Perry, author, Wisconsin-ite, father, nurse