These eyes look as vision fades
Into darkened, dampened forest glades
Russet hues and yellows burn
As Fall takes its three-month turn
Towards the dark of winter’s cold
The cycle of life to death to life
The way of all things we are told
In myth and legend’s that foretell strife
We are but passing flotsam
Cast upon a naked shoreline
Silently mouthing the words ‘I am’
Consciously murmuring in time
To the mood-swelled tidal forces
In an early primeval dawning
As the heated blood now courses
Pumped through growing limbs entwining
Our everlasting souls soaring
To find the Sun and its nourishing light
In which to find our way through second sight
Back home
Lovely, Gary…
Thank you!