Trees That Receive the Wind

Birds Over the Lake

No Squirrel

Geese Flying By

Ducks

Geese, Out and About

As the Waves Roll In

Cling Together as the Year Slips By

Everything Til Then Is Progress

Hang Down, Hang Down

The Light in the Depths

And Take Such Hope As We Can Find

We Gaze Around

We Wonder If It's Too Late

We Catch Our Breath

In the Year of 39

We See Perhaps a Way

And Through the Gaps

We See a Path

There, Not So Far Away

There, Not So Far Above

Beyond the Clouds

Beyond the Day

Eight Minutes Away

A Moment Before the Light

Across the Treetops

The Days Ahead

Their Day Begun

Their Day Now Done

Proceeding

Receding

Only a While

A While, A While

Till Then I Wait

Till the Light Returns