In pre-dawn stillThe wind comes once everyThree minutes, bellowing deep in the treesSlow, picks up speed, then stops. dark ghost trainwinds down, swapping arrivers fordepartersWhose gossamer trench coating shuffle wetLeaves adhere, our front window stained Chapel glass between worlds. Warm and dry,tamed storming, unpredictable rowdyTimetables of bluster and agenda, measures of syncopated nature, theruthless spiced … Continue reading Hericane. [sic]
Pre-dawn crickets telling tales of the evening's revelry Ghoulish parties in the wood Mocking, the Jay banters and catcalls the Titmouse Rough coffee, home-smoked bacon Frittata in the oven A walk through the trees Wizards and witches finishing touches on tomorrow's hallow'd garments with little more than chocolate and striped corn we bid adieu to … Continue reading Ladle. [Poem]
Nothing haunts me more than the things I never had the courage to say. Partnered with longing to take back spears thrown in the heat of battle, or the enmeshment of insecurities weaving a relationship fabric so warped, it serves as a battle flag to avoid that same slope and ditch in the future. Destiny. … Continue reading Vow in Autumn. (Poem)
A slow-glowing firefly rests where the cottage red garage door meets the pebbled tan foundation. It lights, labored, out of breath from a long summer winging warm night air. Across the gravel, honeysuckle continues a thin late bloom. One must come so near for barely a hint of perfume that filled the entire … Continue reading Greenroom. (Poem)
August, the Sunday of the summer months. Suspending the start of autumn, an air of distracted denial in these late summer days. Our activities hum similarly round in their tune. Bring in the fruits for winter's cellar and holiday cheer. Relearn tying shoes and making lunch. End earlier to rise earlier Summer's growth spurt in … Continue reading Unapologetic Season. [Poem]
Midnight sweeps a quiet exhale adieu the gentle vale drops mist across the moon kissing shoulders they turn away seamless pivot and undulation peace, deep under the stars. The pause and kick reset of the old refrigerator familiar mechanism, hum a sentry centered in the dark downstair snoring lightly, pointing ground birds to flight the … Continue reading Moth. [NaPoWriMo 2017] 24 April 2014, journal.