I was here before
you came, and when you are gone
I will still be here.

I was here before
you came, and when you are gone
I will still be here.
Some days I wish I’d been a nun
Cloistered, curtained by the hanging
Green of trees, pale apple green, serene cloak.
Measured days and nights,
Paced from hour to praying hour.
No pride no lust no greed no lies,
No loss no gain no pain no strife,
But peace, pale apple green, serene
Soft poultice on the quick of life.
My eyes are filled with trees of gold
With shining, rippling water
A vibrant view that pleases all my senses
Here, I am alive, almost euphoric
Breathing . . .
Broken by the storm
branches bent with silent grief
hold their beauty yet.
Trees lean together
gently shaking leaves murmur –
quiet companions.