Above

Staring up towards the ceiling

Outside skies are stormy, reeling,

But here inside I ponder feelings

What is up above?

I see just white and dusty wood chip

If this is it then I am for it

Plain and flat no life around it

Nothing up above.

The rain pours down

My head is pounding

Thoughts go round and round and round, then

suddenly my eyes are found

upon a tiny line.

A line, a crack, so small but growing,

And now it's breaking through,

no slowing

the ceiling turns from white to blue as

plaster crumbles down.

Sitting there now laughter grips me

for not just up but all around me

there is more than the four walls

yes, so much more to see.

I breath in deep, the air is fresh

I'm overwhelmed I must confess

the colour, life, and wonder,

all around and up above.

Autumn

Autumn, she is calling,
as red leaves come out to play.
Chill in the air,
frost on the ground.
A new season on it's way

A delightful spriteful wonderland,
wind blowing from the north.
Acoustic notes
from old guitars,
arrive upon my door.

It's the Fall invitation,
and change is taking place.

Whimsical paths
meet ivy towers,
all at nature's pace.

Autumn, she is calling

on this misty saturday.

I'll grab my coat,

and boots and scarf,

I'm coming out to play.