Trees

And when spring blooms again, the trees begin anew.

Van Gogh’s tree

he sat in front of his window, cried, raged, and painted.

forest

a bird’s chirp is a hallow sound on the sacred forest ground.

purple blossoms

quiet beauty blooms closest to us.

nightmares

when the clock ticks past six at night – tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock – a raven caws its sorrowsamong the outline of trees standing stark against a backdrop of a blackholeof lost dreams – my dreams are plagued with shadow monsters clawing futilely – lights just beyond its scabbed claws – the woman

ornaments

the glimmering spheresdancing light off pine needlesabove wrapped presents