From

Barren Fields
Barren fields aren't barren,
They're full of life unborn.
New notebooks aren't blank,
Their pages just aren't scribbled and torn.
Everything's just a matter of yet,
A hope that never stills
Even when every crop is harvested
And every page is filled.

Cycle
A field of zinnias and mums
Leaving as autumn comes
Wildflowers fading
Leaf colors changing
Apples turn red
As grasses turn brown
Fruits fall suddenly
To the leaf-laden ground.

Real Life
I still believe in fairies,
For I know one who's oft around.
Elves are nothing new to me,
Because I know where one is found.
And of course animals speak!
Many are my friends.
If you believe in magic,
Then wonder never ends.

Singing on Paper
Poems well up inside me,
And though I don't make a sound,
I sing them just as loudly
When I write them down.
I'm singing on paper,
For there's no song as divine
As a pencil on a page
Making thin black lines.

Sun and Shade
Close my eyes against the sun
And make my own shade
As we drive past fields and trees
The world begins to fade
But my World stays the same.

A Dark Turn
Not dim but
Dark
The forest is
Black
And gray and emerald
With touches of
Yellow
Shade and damp
No light breaks through
The tunnel of
Trees.