Tallest oak, rust leaves high,
in the sacred, sapphire sky.
Single flower, rust petals low,
in the first November snow.

Buddy has come to visit and will soon die,
Fred says, because of his heart. (I think
because of his heart he has years left!)
He's an old chihuahua with beagle ears
and brown eyes. One thing is certain,
in Fred's heart, he'll live forever.

Chili on the stove, wafting spicy goodness... mmmmm!

Warm air, cozy on my arms drifting from the fireplace downstairs.

Moon snuggling beside me contently purring - sweet feline fashion.  

                                 Three paths into a poem.

Beautifully played and read poetry
       needs light and attention.
How powerful is my intention
trying to write and read in the dim
       with one eye closed?

Peggy said it's time to face the dragon, face the dragon,
the ocd dragon that's chained my foot to his foot,
the ocd dragon who drags me back into the dreary dark,
the dreary dark.  How?  How?  How?  How to distract
the dragon so I can free my foot?
May be I should ask him out to dinner!

He left and I'm still on one side of the bed.
The other side, man-free, is occupied
by two cats, a 90 pound dog, uplifting books.
Now this is peacefully fabulous.

Listening to song after song,
not wanting to go to sleep.
Then singing clear and soft
enough to wake the dead.