I'm dripping in this rainy life again,
In patters little through the pensive fog,
I welcome in the whimsy of the time,
My thoughts so simmer differently in pours:
The world is freshly made in autumn rain.

How crisp the air of winter morns, just soft,
Enough brush your cheeks and bite your nose,
To dress the world in cotton folds and furs,
Yet leave the greens a breath to burrow and stand stalwart.

Here I intrude again,
The space my own,
And cuddled between,
Sharing joyful sounds from the past:
Music to ponder to.