Twister moon

flesh burns in

the afternoon sun

to meet the cool

blue moon later

in a stormy night

the sirens may

call out three 

or even four times

while spectators in

the neighborhood gaze

upward to the flashes

but we have already

smelled the rain

and felt the thunder

in our souls

it's time to let

the wind blow through

and take all our

expectations with it

 

Overstayed welcome

a barren bed lays

in the middle 

of a potato row

rabbit feet have

beaten it down

for comfort

for protection

while drizzle

tickles the foliage

only clouds float

overhead for now

so astute ears lay

down to rest

in a nestle of fur

among potato leaves

 

A nightfall float

let evening settle

let it fall around

your shoulders

let the gentle hands

of the day give way

and the shadow of

night tuck you in

let your worries

flutter into the dark

the burdens you

have carried today

undress them from

your body and close

your eyes to them all

let this moment at

the edge of wake

and the edge of sleep

hold you in its arms

and simply carry you

into your flight of rest

 

Yogurt drifts

breakfast eaten

and all that remains

an abstract painting

of drifting clouds

or raging ocean waves

the remnants of white

yogurt leaves on the

blue plastic compartment

in the lunch box

a friend gifted to you

because you had asked

for a bento box 

for your birthday one year

yet the words on top

are reassuring:

Dream big!

 

Hold on

we can run

through those fields

the ones that

stretch off into 

the eternal sunsets

we can chase

those moments

into the night skies

where the stars

flicker to the rhythm

of the fireflies

in those fields 

we ran through

we can hold on

to each quiet word

spoken in our eyes

and pen a poem

no heart could tell

but each sunrise

could sing of

we can sleep on it

there's no rush

to our next step

no need to force

any more words

we can hold on

 

Memorial afternoon

painted ladies

dance on golden stages

while lions roar

in green blades

fleur de lis

silky cascades set 

sweet perfume clouds

assail in the breeze

dapper fellows

dressed in red flutter

to perch to peer

to pause and flee

fuzzy jumper

stalking flies sipping

on sweaty skin

bold with silks

timid angelica

stands bold and tall

yet withholds 

its nosegay still

cries and barks

fill the air like cotton

crowded below

yet sol sails solo

 

Wet what

whether in weathered

rain or ocean deep

or standing against

the river water rush

it drips, it drowns

it pulls it all away

it pressurizes in

its silent dark depths

and flows through all

the inner streams

it is the glass

calling for a sip

it is the fog that

blurs reality's sight

it is the ice that bites

and the steam that stings

it is the stirring in

the sky that inspires

children to see things

other than what they are

it is the vast sea that 

keeps people apart only

to incite them to

take the journey across

it is the tapping 

on the windows

or the tears from the

windows of the soul

Nice trip?

those thoughts 

tripped and fell

and were lost

to the cracks

in the sidewalk

to that world

where ants dig

out after down

pours of rain

where weed

seeds gather

and create a

micro climate

amid scorching

suns in July

those thoughts

can only be 

found again 

through use of

a screwdriver

and patience

 

Idling

the value of nothing

is priceless

yet doing nothing

is something

allowing what

will be is silencing

the will in

the great emptiness

of choosing

not to choose

it's surrendering the will

to the one who gave it

everything and anything

will always find nothing

for there is inertia in

both stillness and movement

and the void will not

last long

 

 

20/20

these two eyes

one sees from the soul

the other's vision

comes from the mind

they cross when 

they disagree with 

what's in sight

a true deliberation

of the meaning 

of any interaction

with the external world

they roll when

they are chasing after

whatever they think

may be important 

to self preservation

they wink when

they want the other

to miss something

the one wants to focus on

and they cry when

they agree 

 

T-storm

same in essence

the tiny sparks

seen in the dark

when static shines

in fabric friction

the great energy

that rolls in sound

and flashes light

when the turning

of the earth rock

pulls at the ocean

levitating in the air

and the same spark

illuminates the sky

to behold what flows

through everything

in grandest display

a show of bolts and

music of the gods

Mid-May distractions

those thoughts of

liliums replacing alliums

means someone may be

middle aged that is

if that someone lives

to be the ripe old age

of ninety, nine, a good

year it was to complete

high school and live

a surreal moment when

congratulations met

graduations, a time

of year for towns to

get wiped off the map

and more than a whirlwind

meets schedules for 

grandparents and estranged

relatives, it's all relative

but merely a distraction

 

Heads up

just above my head

hovers a swarm of gnats

notes bouncing up and

down a music scale

unheard by these ears

further out from these

little songbirds flutter

through arms of trees

and maple seeds are

flung by the breeze

propelling through air

to find their retreat

higher yet the raptor

surveying as it sails

through the gray waves

of the mirrored ocean

and my arms reach out

to wish the rise above

or the fall from earth

into whatever exists

far beyond any of this

 

Green Lynx

tiny green spider

a tickle on 

my shoulder

somehow you

tagged along

I picked you up

from who knows

where

to wear as a pin

momentarily

for you have

places to go

and tinier bugs

to eat

no question

on how

no judgement

on who

just a wish

of safe travels

into the air

on silk paths

 

Blow hard

loose windows knock

on windy days

doors slam shut

on those same days

things are thrown

furniture is knocked over

on windy days

dead branches fall and

ash is blown from chimneys

on windy days

faded flowers disappear

and roots are stimulated

on windy days

dusty air is cleared

dandelion seeds travel far

and whispers fly to the stars

on windy days

 

Time out

so many words

lost to the moment

a flock of birds

that have scattered

into the sky

when the frustration

fumes into the ether

around dusk dancing

with twigs donning new leaves

that is where the words leave

in a sigh

in a deep breath

all those words collecting

behind that mental dam

to cause a pause and retreat

to a moment to lose words

 

Once more

perhaps white butterflies

come back as seagulls

or better yet the small

fluffy clouds that take

shape as other things

and shift their shapes

until they disappear

it's just the same as

the perpetual march

of the flora fountain

diminishing daffodils

bow out to iris glory

for them to yield to

heavy lily perfumes

for all blooming beauty 

to yield only to even more

within the heart of

the divine and eternal

 

 

Pastoral

green among

the golden grass remains

both goose and gosling

weave through willow

water's edge

paddling in the puddle

under the barking blackbirds

striped red with wings

off further follows

cattle calls and calves

running with young joy

the early energy 

that's spent so soon

and is overly observed

by standing smooth stones

through the years

What hides in grass

in the light

and shadow

at the foot 

of the spruce

a rabbit hops

between the two 

worlds to nibble

on the green grass

unknowing what

its fodder may

have been donned

with by the very ones

who cause the rabbits

to run from this

very moment as

they ride through

the scene on assailant

lawn mowers

 

Morning view

of fish and fire

that escape from

glasses of water

to dance upon

desktops in sunlight

early in the day

where crows dance

atop the power poles

to the rhythm of robins

who watch a traffic river

so set on destination

flow to and fro

so very far below

still creeps the light

through filtered blind

so fish and fire

can make a daring escape

from the glass of water

 

A harvest yet unknown

the ticking numbers

have come to a trickle

while Winter still fights

to stay relevant 

half way though Spring

views of fallow ground

leave a silent numbness

within the soul while

anticipation burns

for hot humid Summer

this lingering between

tests the tenacity of will

and tempts the defeat

from deep within

while time marches on

yet the promise waiting

down the road in Autumn

is more than enough mindset

to endure the chill

and float in time's river

The farewell

I let myself go

last night

I said a farewell

to this one

and my dreams

cut the cord

somewhere in my

ethereal body

blood was pooling

from within

and the physician

at my side

made me aware that

I hadn't long

I looked around at

my life

at all the things in

my house

at the sun in the trees 

along the street

at the eyes of those

I loved

and the river of grief

poured out

as the ego within

let go

 

Release

in minute yellow fields

the sun is reflected

in tiny tufts of petals

where flora flatters

the solar sentiment

where bees visit to

make it possible

for each tiny sun

to explode into a

supernova of itself

to scatter the seed

to release the future

upon it's unknown self

to drift far off and away

from anything known

to remember the lost

to find what is new

and to trust the wind

 

Cloud drifts

if a cloud chooses

to shed a piece

of itself

then a piece of it

drifted downward

in a motion slow and soft

floating through sunlight

and the fingertips of the trees

where spider silks glisten

lifting my hand to catch it

it elusively flowed through

my two inner fingers

not just once but twice

and descended towards

the freshly cut grass

to nestle between the blades

 

May view

the cool breeze

didn't break through

the solar embrace

while heavy clouds

drifted overhead

the sun filtered

by mulberry branches

returned to gaze

upon a hungry cottontail

grazing upon rampion leaves

and dandelion blossoms

but the bunny must have

longed for greener pastures

and passed through 

the gape at the foot of the gate

lit by the evening sun

 

Yellow rail

movement flows

under harebell leaves

a tiny rarity

pops out at the end

of the overgrown foliage

feathers dressed in

a young fawn's fur

with the sharpest

brightest yellow beak

carried on oversized

clawed feet to easily

grasp any tedious spot

it finds in a marshy home

it pauses with a smirk

to nod an acknowledgment

of the happiness

right around the corner