
When life lacks lustre,
look up from under a tree—
world looks different.

When life lacks lustre,
look up from under a tree—
world looks different.

Tiny, red, bird-like;
migrating for the winter:
leaves flying off trees.

Lining my sidewalk,
seeks no appreciation—
a daisy just is.

Ornamental grass
glisten in the setting sun;
fountains on sidewalks.

I watch the sunset;
airport waiting area
promises sunrise.