"Ain't I a giver, don't I deliver in black for morning tea?
Long hair raker, deep dark acre, you've gone and lost just me.
We've got to keep on, got to keep on, keeping on" (tiny ruins)

Perhaps it is the weather turning oh so quickly.
As the breathe becomes short and the days stretch with the giver.
The color of green stains everything. A tattoo.
Pebbles catching the cat's eyes. - David John

1. Image unknown
2. Pope Valley Pottery, photo by Mimi Giboin
3. Vintage Lamp, source forgotten.