Sunday, January 2, 2011


Stand with me beneath white birch trees
in early morning dew.
Float upon a fresh green thought
that travels country wide.

Let’s blend together hues of ink
as hand in hand we walk.
We come alive like feathered ferns
in autumn shades of gold.

And should we linger long enough
we'll catch the rising moon.
It watches over everyone
especially those who hide.