There is only one way to understand a lonely bench in a park: Sit on it; watch whatever it is watching; listen whatever it is listening to!
The well of nature is full in April. Time to go outside and take a drink.
The cobblestone upon the sun-warmed alley brings warm and friendly memories. For these brown hues of soulful ambience speak as a visual poetry. They speak of the gold that lives within, of earthy forest paths, of wintry hearths and pink-russet sunrise.
In the Quiet Between
Frost laces the earth
a quiet diamond veil,
whispers of smoke rise,
spilling through the breath of trees.
Evenings on the lake
It is life, I think, to watch the water. A man can learn so many things.