Racing home to beat the storm
from another sylvan scout
I'm headed where it's dry and warm
a refuge from tempests about.

Alas the rains catch up with me
and overwhelm the wiper blades.
The deluge makes it hard to see
as water pelts adjacent glades.

Lightning strobes its actinic way,
shaking my bones with its deep thunder
while gusts of wind make large trees sway.
I seek a shelter to park under.

The brook always speaks
It sounds like babble to ears
Doesn't speak to thee

Future Past Intense

My future now is in the past,
Events that happen, happen FAST
And even she; who once was mine,
I seem to anger, all the time.

Unsteady on my feet, I fear
Another fall, like that last year.
When crumbling bones left me in pain,
Still hurting, don’t want that again.

Old age has little to commend it
(The Parkinson’s alone might end it)
Our hope grows fainter, will they find
Solutions, cures for damaged minds.

She was a sequoia seed
Planted in a pot and
Fed rose rations

After all
Who doesn't like flowers?