Some days,

Turning the other cheek,

And walking away, ...

Everyone,

And everything,

Carries their weight, ...

Handmade,

With love.

But I wonder, ...

Some days feel barren.

As if harvested.

Nothing left to give. ...

Bee:

“Nothing like filling up,

On fresh pollen and nectar, ...

Crowds,

Dispersed.

Streets, ...

Volcanic colors,

Hovering over,

Melting snowy mountains. ...

Not long now,

Before the fields,

Start to bloom. ...

Fortunately,

In our village,

It’s the local beer, ...

Days fall away,

Like specks of dust.

And like fallen ash, ...

Bared teeth.

Eyes bulging.

Snarling. ...

Drink dear butterfly.

Then fly,

Float, ...

“What do you see,

When you look me?”

Cracks and flaws, ...

Some days,

All we need,

Is a bit of tape, ...

Three wheels,

Without passengers,

Scaling a wall. ...

Youth,

When emotions,

Washed over me. ...

With every passing day,

A bond,

I never imagined, ...

Early autumn.

Quiet,

Breezy days. ...

Write on me.

Paint,

Re-arrange, ...

Soon it’ll be spring.

The old,

Will give way, ...