Lori Brown

There will always be people who’s psyche

Lives in complete darkness

All at once dreary and impenetrable

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How many secrets do you hold!

Dear Tree of 50 plus years old

How many people have you seen

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You came into my life when we were so very young

The words, “I love you” came easily off our tongues

By the looks of you it was easy to see how others

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Fiesta Ware in blue, yellow, and red

Reminds me of Gramma’s house

Kitchen so bright! Fresh homemade bread

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Driving along that desolate road

Flanked by fields of tall wild grasses

the view would surely benefit, if mowed

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The wispy trail of the scud crashing by

Natures street-sweeper ready to fly

The usually delicate foliage of the

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Peace can be found anywhere and anytime

It can come with the rolling thunder

Or the feel of sweet grass under

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SAYS PHOEBE is a bird whose whistle sounds like, “fee bee, fee bee”

Long lashes surround deep-brown eyes

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The moon was in its last quarter phase the day you were born

Time for action and transition according to the lore

Your mommy or daddy reads the pages of your sleepy-time book

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The mackerel sky throws shade at the sun

But the morning glories are gorgeous

While the clouds are not undone

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