Wind chime tings, life’s humid dreams,
stilted breeze on my cheek;
reality not what it seems
to both the proud and to the meek.
Citronella makes it’s vain attempt
to repel blood thirsty insects;
a smack of palm will condemn
them in mid-ingest.
Creator has given time,
this moment I will thank;
for beauty, sunset and sunrise,
and molten gold on lake.