When the pen takes control.

As the hunter sits

contemplating his shadow,

the moon is no friend

Inspired by the beauty of this October afternoon I felt I should tell you the view from my window

Swirling, shimmering,
shafts of sunlight, lava pools
o’er, the forest floor,
insects rise, glow like fireflies,
eager to dance out brief lives

The lark sings on high

lustily, a rush of wind

as the falcon strikes

When the last child leaves

the nest that once was called home

emptiness descends

Through the clouds appeared

a slanting shaft of sunshine

my path to heaven

Take me to the beach

just look under the old bridge

time to find your soul

Thunder and lightning 

invigorate the senses

and recharge  the soul

Cast your eyes up-wards,
gaze upon the face of hope,
on a wooden cross

Ivory white columns

open and expose a pit

the threshold of life?