Grays, mauves, sages, soft beiges, and oranges,
With grades of taupe,
Color the forest, the quiet forest,
On this winter morn,
Light snow falls from gray skies
covering Orange of sunrise,
Moments ago, fled by.
Mountains strong and steady
French toast on the griddle say, “Goodbye.’
Water sounds in the shower beside.
Clean suds, warm upon the skin.
What passes by.
Time flows into Time
In a place I love.