As I Am

I stand before you as I am
as I go with the tide
You may embrace me in your arms
or elbow me aside

I may come up with decent rhyme
But outside of that verse
I'm not even a hack of a poet
I may turn out a pleasant line
But I belong with no writers
beyond that scrap of a note

Seasons of the Mind

Sometimes, there is calm
a small oasis of summer
in cold, clammy November
Sometimes, there is alarm
a black cloud spewing rain
in a cacophony of thunder

Sometimes, the will grows weak
a candlewick that flickers
in the blustery wind of autumn
Sometimes, the resolve runs strong
a bonfire that blazes on
announcing spring has come