He stood on the precipice
Staring into space
Watching the eagle as it took flight
With a certain silent grace.
He wished he could reach out
And somehow touch the sun
But he realized through the years
Some things just cannot be done.
A walk in the forest
On a chilly fall day
Though he was a writer
There was little he could say.
He enjoyed the winter
A ring of mist enshrouded
Life, what he preferred
Simpler, a little less crowded.
The winter was followed
By the arrival of spring
A rebirth,a renewal
Of what life was to bring.
Watching as life reappeared
A sight to be seen
The barren,the gray
Replaced with the many shades of green.
Then comes the return of summer
The circle now complete
My hope in my heart
Is that I am here for when it
again repeats.
(c)2008 T.LaFountain