Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
I am not sure
If I should sit
For I am only
Half-way home
But that one tree
On the far horizon
Captivated
My every thought
So I did sit
And gifted
These few words
To all of those
Who are lucky enough
To pass this way
At the very beginning
Of autumn
