I just raised the window shade,
As the darkness of night, fades away,
A gray and white sky, starts to appear,
As I tilt my head to look up high, are the clouds, far, or near.
It’s five thirty in the morning, the last Saturday,
In June of twenty, twenty five, the only sound,
An owl in the distance, and the ticking of seconds,
From a clock, counting down the time, I will be alive.
A peaceful view, the dominate color, is green, no movement,
Everything, so still, mother nature, creating another beautiful,
Peaceful scene. I’m at my shanty, on the east side of Shaubert’s,
Bridge, where it cross Maxwell’s creek, as it flows,
A southern direction, away, a quiet place, relaxing,
My soul, and mind, a very solitary, location, to connect with nature,
As many thoughts, come and drift away, why I was so,
Lucky to be in a place, many just dream of, every day.

                                          The original Tom Maxwell © 6/28/2025 AD

she softly walks
watching people as they pass her by
she stops at red lights and stop signs
pauses through yellow
along the way she listens to Lana
who sings to her in a sweet way
she's got messy hair and a messy room
a big heart on her face
she loves with a love no one gets
but still loves nonetheless