Tree Leaf

Slow rain. Let it subside the pain. Let it cover the day, like whispering words to say. The rain pours as I stay behind closed doors. This is what I learn, that the rain will return. Slow rain-with soft sounds that remain.

Fallen feather; am I like a lost feather? Waiting for better weather? Will the angel that left it remember? Does he sit in silence watching me in December? Does he sing songs forever? Will he lose another feather? Never.

Grey Clouds

Boring Boat

I imagine Ice