An early morning,

Infrequent scene,

When clouds descend, ...

Hair turns grey,

Leaves change to brown,

Trees decay, ...

Every day,

I awaken with a choice.

To face the day, ...

Opportunities,

Are like doors.

Sometimes unappealing, ...

At times,

Days never seem to end.

Piles of problems, ...

I’ve walked those lands,

Planted trees and vines,

Made oil and wine. ...

Amusing creativity,

Is often seen,

When children play, ...

Beauty,

That surrounds,

And lays close by, ...

Town center,

Pure happiness,

Or mere peacefulness. ...

Snails may be slow,

But also brave.

They let the world, ...

Construction,

Or refurbishment,

Is a fact of life. ...

Perhaps one day,

We’ll look at the world,

Through accepting eyes, ...

In our neighborhood,

On warm summer days,

It at times hails. ...

Last night’s dreams,

Were hard to understand.

Obscure fragments, ...

Days pass,

Sidewalks crack,

And colors, ...

Some days,

I wish I could hear,

Flowers simply speak. ...

Lately,

I’ve been wondering,

Who my shadow really is. ...

What better way,

To lighten a grey,

Cool spring day. ...

It’s mystery,

What often she sees.

Shapes and forms, ...

Watermelons floating,

In a shady pond.

It was grandpa’s way, ...