Poem

How sharp does the line say I’m mountain.
The khaki tells the gray,
here is where I begin and end and here is where I’ll stay

When sunlight breaks through heavy sky
and touches autumn gold,
it tells me, listen friend it is my story too here told.

Then falling leafs disguised as bird
no longer hide the singing thrush.
I gather them where they fell  and play to hear their brush

My life but a circle wide and as deep as I can see,
where heart’s content and cloudless joy
tell the story that is me.