Chill

A Great Lakes second winter comes with a chill

as leaves skip and fly across hop scotched grass

with the whistle of ones waving from the tree top

swinging between sun and shade

in want of spring’s rebirth

so full and drunk with salvation

Epiphany

Words divide the sides,

felt and heard without soul or face.

Life though breathes

embodied now

Epiphany

traveled in foreign lands

beyond lines and limits

under stars out of reach

while love divine walks close.