Little more 
maybe less
smidge bit
and dollop 
so goes
this dance 
of making 
this into 
that mine
into yours 
a pot
of us

Soon they
said rain
will turn 
somewhere between 
cloud and 
ground to
snow and 
my eyes 
will follow 
as it
slowly falls 
turning Autumn 
to winter 

It’s not 
that I 
but he 
and when 
one won’t 
can I 
we us 
and ours 
can’t be 
until he 
and me 
do too

Neither love 
nor madness 
has logic 
they both 
are lost
left wandering 
the highlands 
like sheep 
or elk
frequently sought 
occasionally spotted 
rarely bagged 

If this
is peace 
then I 
know why
so many 
people want 
to get 
into Heaven