eric sundin

When munching on bread:

Flowing field windswept
the rustling grain
soggily it wept
in bursting rain

When sipping coffee:

In heat shimmering
ripe the red beans
glowing glimmering
on hillside greens

When walking on a wood floor:

Stately tall the trees
branches sweeping the sky
swaying in brisk breeze
reaching where eagles fly

While when looking in the mirror:

My old face has since long been cast
recalls not the youth of its past

edited 06/29/24 1110