a pinwheel will spin . only if it is facing . into a stiff wind
the migrating goose . returns to a frozen lake; . remembers water
pragmatism dies . in the first warm days of spring . unless there’s wisdom
every raindrop . lands but once, delivering . on its promises
in a wet spring snow . tracks are made; but within hours . will cease to exist
when all benches face the same direction, that’s where they want us to look
in the midst of change greater caution is required; threats hide in plain sight
it’s okay to wait; . one cannot float a sailboat . on a frozen lake
too often in life . there are signs of what’s to come . that go unheeded
a light in the dark is a point to focus on amidst the unknown
uptown jack 