We are snowflakes, meltingon the tongue of the universe.

When it rains,the world softens around the edges; streets and sidewalks become a liquid mirror onto which lights and colors bleed.When it rains, everything becomes beautiful . . .for a while.

Unseen in their flight,wild geese faintly call,passing high overhead,in the depths of night.Instinctive travelers,on invisible highways.I envy their lack of lostness.

Rebellious leavesgoing outin a blaze of glory,setting trees aflamein riotous color.Reluctant surrenderto rumorsof coming winter.