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How long has it been
until a harvest beam?
spring turns summer hot
July corn leaves unfurl hope
...

You look unto stone
seeing striated furrows
once living bedrock
now a stooping figure
...

this next month you will be dead
again, one year so far, far away
though still within this sanguine heart
you stare your love as always
...

these winds have no chords tonight
drifting over a prairie of loneliness
knotting oozing thoughts of nostalgia
onto tumbleweeds of emptiness
...

silent wind chimes wait
as breeze wraps a merry tune
fall disrobes in dance
...

Where footling trees do grow
nature, apologies need not know
vistas look back at you with eyes of snow
stones, high meadows, and silver timber knots
...