the blind man sits on a bench
breathing in the winter warmth
of blue sky sunshine
tasting the scent of low tide seaweed
on a love hungry tongue
smiling
as the gentle breeze
caresses his tear streaked face
once again
he reaches out
seeking the missing hand
the tender touch
to comfort his lonely soul
tio stib aka uncle steve
We seek renewal, sometimes it is found in nature.
Nature is my church of choice.