Photo: © Randall Snyder

Barefoot in the grass,
I walk, happy for the chance
to feel young again.

I listened closely
and was taught about life
by the babbling brook.

A praying mantis,
grateful for its special name,
tries to practice more.

Miles of sunflowers
as far as the eye can see.
Bees drooling, like me.

Paw prints by the stream,
magnificently large,
shoes I cannot fill.

Offering shelter
to the homeless, she re-pays.
Someone, dared to care.

I hear the weeping.
Why is the mountain crying?
The floods have begun.

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© Randall Snyder

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Randall Snyder

Randall Snyder

Standing on a cliff’s edge of mind and mountain, I write what I see, what I think, what I can.