Clouds of lace full of grace
Drift in the Autumns sky
Chilling air drifting there
Watching as they pass by
Seasons pass as nothing lasts
As is the way of things
No questions here left to ask
Observing the birds that sing
Sitting here in the early chill
Peaceful quiet and thought
Creeping smiles upon this face
In joy this morning has brought
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 