(C) R.L.K.
Puddles on the street,
remnants of this morning's rain,
reflect a pale moon;
the old trees sway in a wind
that has blown the leaves away.
(C) R.L.K.
(C) R.L.K.
(C) R.L.K.
(C) R.L.K.
Afternoon sunlight
floods the sky and spills onto
the rusted fringes
of a defunct railway while
scraps of paper ride the wind.