
putting out flowers
remembering those who died
flyover of geese
putting out flowers
remembering those who died
flyover of geese
off a busy street
an inviting gate beckons
leave the world behind
in the cool of evenings
come and walk with your Maker
between the branches
just below the hanging clouds
where the light resides
no dinner bell heard
yet turtles know to gather
when the catkins fall