That howling winter wind  —
its banshee call reminds us all
of just how much we’ve sinned.
   

Across the drifting dunes
the eddies spawned by swirling winds
carve mystic notes in runes.
   

Once piled with harvest sheaves,
this former farm hails summer’s end
with piles of autumn leaves.
   

Originality:
Our thoughts? Our own? Ancestral links?
Immortality?
   

Darkening the sky,
a living cloud of migrant birds
knows which way to fly.
   

This ocean view is swell –
I love the gulls, the seals, the whales –
could do without the smell.
   

The penguin stands on ice,
with eggs and sperm between his legs -
the future nurtured twice.
   

The twirling blades above
can’t blow away the summer heat
from steamy couples in love.
   

Against the window — thump!
Upon the pane, like fingerprints,
the downy feathers clump.
   

Wondrous color, scarlet,
marred by notoriety –
linked to famous harlot.
   

A fence leaves goals in doubt –
designed to keep its contents in
or keep intruders out?
   

under consruction
   

For further information about the Momento verse form:  See Footnotes