‘Tis the fall season,
a layer of ground cover:
leaves here; humans there.
Fired up

Unmistakably,
firing up the big engines,
glowing, sun rises.
Clarity

Staring at coffee
waiting for the clouds to part,
for my path to form.
Storm

The surfers convene:
brewing up a thunderstorm,
shady clouds gather.
Cut

All over the land,
gaping wounds and bleeding hearts—
cut trees; paper cuts.
