Writing Poetry, Is distilling language down, to the very core.
Yellow Sunflowers. Others call them weeds, and yet, They brighten my day.
A Glorious Sky! Orange-shouldered Orion throws the Boomerang moon.
Ice cream for breakfast. Sometimes the simple pleasures are the ones you need.
Little drops of dew Landing on my exposed skin like tiny pinpricks
When you look beyond The chasms that lie ahead You see the full moon
Evening Approaches Pecan shadows are creeping across the roadway
To the song of birds an orange ladybug dances along my forearm
Air as sweet as cream. Large, round raindrops fall onto bright-new green grass stalks.