Branches in the puddle on the sidewalk
dark against the pale face of the sky
broken pictures of a broken world
windows to a place like mine
but not the same
I wonder – do they cry there?

The wind, it leaves the flowering branches crying
raining down their life over my face
little echoes of what I was made for
pieces of a near, dear place
but far away
I wonder – would I know it?

The rain drizzles down the window pane in front of my face; my breath makes a faint fog on the cold glass. Across the field is Mingus Mountain, normally a dark blue silhouette against the sky, now a rolling bank of misty grey clouds and falling rain. Another rivulet of water trickles past my eye, and I glance up at the sky.

The rain drizzles down the window pane in front of my face; my breath makes a faint fog on the cold glass. Across the field is Mingus Mountain, normally a dark blue silhouette against the sky, now a rolling bank of misty grey clouds and falling rain. Another rivulet of water trickles past my eye, and I glance up at the sky.

The Piglet and Please walked hand in hoof,
and the little blue shawl dragged the ground
as the two went Adventuring, when suddenly, 'Poof!'
the shawl had at last been unwound.

The Piglet, in tears, said it was just as he feared,
the one thing he so loved was now gone,
and Please felt sad for his new friend so dear,
and so he composed him a song.

But the Piglet still wept his little wet tears,
and Please didn't know what to do
so he picked up the string and told the Piglet, "No fear,
for I know how to knit, 'tis true."

They all gathered round as the Pickler cried,
"Come! Look upon these new lands!"
and then they all dashed like mad down the side
of the hill, wildly waving their hands.

The pumkin they left, to mark the last place
where they had left all of their things
except for the nets (the Politician made a face,
for he hated to chase bugs with wings.)

Once upon a time (it was around the first of August) a group of adventurous campers, and their pets, set out on a short weekend excursion. They packed up their trailer with all the necessary food supplies- popcorn, steak, Twinkies, diet Dr. Pepper- and journeyed down the interstate to the deep, dark forests of Northern Arizona.

The rain starts to pitter-patter every house's rooftop. Pit-pat, begins the steady rhythm. Then it begins to grow to something loud. Something frightening.

In pale knobbled trees the blackbirds sit
And refuse to sing but a rasping call
Pessimistically they watch the clouds and say,
"How dull! How dull!
If the monotony doesn’t kill us first,
The world will likely end tomorrow-
Unless postponed for rain."

The wolves don’t bother to raid the sheep,
the bears hibernate early.
The deer gave up guarding their young,
And the plain little flowers forgot to bloom.
Why not fall into discord and sleep?
The world will likely end tomorrow-
Unless postponed for rain.

I was so lonely when you left
The house was silent as never before
The rain did fall, making it sorrowful
I looked around to see what to do
But I kept thinking of you
Your face is always alight even with no smile
You make our house happy, even if it is always so
You make rainy days bright when I think dully
But now you are away again
And a shadow fell the second your car drove away
I looked around the house as if all was dead
My toe did look dead, because it was loose
I guess it missed you too