They Might Be Leaves

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They might be leaves
They might be birds
They might be memories
Whatever they might be
I love to watch their drift

and then
the sun moves and
They fly away.

Why I Waited to Jump In

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“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh?” he whispered.
“Yes, Piglet?”
“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”

Use Your Inside Light

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I like it when the light seems to come from within.

Upon Reflection

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Mirror, mirror
on my heart…
How can I tell
these two apart?

Skip, skip, skip to my lu
or run away from home,
tendersome
dearly
embarking
treading in depths
unknown.

Nothing Less

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When I open my eyes,
am I praying?
When I focus my words,
am I seeing?
When I listen within,
am I opening?
What do I have
to lose?