Time is a thief

You run fast
Faster than I do
You take my computer
My television too
You take the things
I can loose

But you spare me the hours
Spent at my desk
You spare me the walks
With books pressed to my chest
And the moments that I spend
Studying for a test
you leave me the moments
that I should use best
You take and you leave
You are time
And you are a thief

wind

Wind

stabs through my jacket

And pierces my skin

The frost-coated grass I walk on

shatters

like glass

under my hasty step

My arms crossed

My head bowed

My scarf flying backward in the wind

Slashes like a streamer

catching on the occasional branch

the wind stops

suddenly

a sheet of tranquility

rests over the forest path

I now can hear my footsteps

And the glass-like grass under my step

Now, not as hasty as before

I feel my scarf loosen on my neck

And rest beside my arm

Sounds of birds

Bounces from one tree to another

I continue walking

As slowly as possible.

Light of Christmas

Light of Christmas
a golden one
painting
over the fences
hedges
and houses
lighting
the otherwise
tenebrous rooms
exept for the slight ray
of the street lights
seeping  through the curtains,
hinting off the glossy
ornaments
hanged to gingerly
onto our tree

essence of christmas

Gental breeze
sweeps leeves
off the sidewalk
wreaths hang pendulously
swinging gently
from the wind
golden lights
turn the street
into a guilded lane,
christmas trees
sit still in the window
there ornaments
show off there sheen
as they peer through the window
captivating the eye
of any pedestrians
taking a stroll
down the golden
foliage-lined street,
that is giving off
a strong
essense of christmas.

Summer Lake

Dry
stale winds
stir up waves
from the shrinking lake.
cattails lose their greens
and turn
brown, brittle and worn
frogs chirp
sitting on the
washed up seaweed,
trying to hinder their home.
red winged black birds,
sit in the fading trees
singing their songs.
turtles will pop their head
in and out of the water,
unti; they go to shore
to bask
in the scorching sun.
I can hear the distant sound
of my brothers
pulling in flopping fish
from the lines
as they flainl about
their glimmering scales
polished silver
in the sun.

Audubon Park

Crisp wind
cascades through
the great oak trees
taking some
unfortunate leaves
with them
the grass gets trampled on
by some determined dogs
chasing after beloved
sticks.
ducks
and geese
sit tranquilly
on the placid water.
Joggers limp by
catching a glance at the
eye-catching scenery
bikers
chat with the people
next to them
and laugh
with good humor.

the firts rain of spring

The first rain of spring

Mists down

In blurry sheets.

Tearing and slashing

At the air,

dense with humidity.

it beats on the windows

and revives the

plants that

have been withered and

frozen from the past winter

the earth seems to come back to life