Were I to Cease My Wandering - Dorothea Barth ©2017 Fallbrook CAL USA
Amidst primary reds, emboldened blues
Where cannons roar, displaced coyotes cry
We praise the joyful purple, orange hues
Whose fragrance flirts with every passerby
Not quite complete the morning when we miss
These paths that change with wind and sun and dew
Each day new colors to unveil in bliss
The sweetened skies awash in fresh-born blue
Our friends the mallard ducks would miss our round
The squirrels’ day would surely be askew
The weasels wonder where we might be found
Were I to cease my wandering here with you
A misty decade spoke of earthly heaven
Reminds us now to savor sixty-seven
By Dorothea Barth ©2017