tree green light
promise limitless horizons,
dappled yellow marks a path
boundless roots burst concrete bark.
faces smooth for lack of trying
reflect sky blue
a sunny yellow glint on dewy eyes.
endless roads in a light blue Malibu,
pass under infinite dark skies
Patsy Cline from Toronto
on a skipping AM radio.
always mail on Saturday,
rain or shine
black burnt coffee to percolate
scrapple to fry,
yellow perch, white perch, lots of sunnys
nothing is wasted on the tide,
fish still swim free.
it’s what the heron sees.
It’s what I see.
One More Voice in the Wilderness 