Through My Lens

Simple things are lovely things.
Rain, dropping from the eaves,
is molten silver streaming down,
upon the fallen leaves.
The thick, grey mantle of the fog,
hides everything from view.
Footsteps make a hollow sound,
when they’re unseen by you.

The echo of a horse’s hoof,
upon the cobblestone,
beats like a strange, erratic pluse,
within my heart alone.
A quiet hour on the sand,
when all the tide is out,
brings with it something deeper,
than i care to talk about.

Shafts of sunlight through the trees,
that grow upon a hill,
the first green shoots above the ground,
though winter lingers still.
Simple things are lovely things,
we need no wealth to share.
the monotone of nature’s soul
. . . . that whisper everywhere!