Impressions
The land feels the breath of winter close.
I seek the fading warmth of the sunshine
I sit on my porch and meditate The Rose
Arbour still holds some fragrance and some bright
beauty. In the orchard the trees are bare.
My errant thoughts will not be still today
they fly like bright butterflies here and there
Each thought determined to go its own way
I watch them pass but pay no heed at all.
Without attention they fade and die.
Their flutterings like ladies at a ball,
who hoping to impress with their bright dress
succeed in showing empty headedness.
Jun 2004
The land feels the breath of winter close.
I seek the fading warmth of the sunshine
I sit on my porch and meditate The Rose
Arbour still holds some fragrance and some bright
beauty. In the orchard the trees are bare.
My errant thoughts will not be still today
they fly like bright butterflies here and there
Each thought determined to go its own way
I watch them pass but pay no heed at all.
Without attention they fade and die.
Their flutterings like ladies at a ball,
who hoping to impress with their bright dress
succeed in showing empty headedness.
Jun 2004


