Wednesday, February 24, 2021

the fallowing year

 stay the hand 

stay the heart 

door ajar 

the window sash 

words dormat as crocus quiet 

the fallowing year 

behind yet still silent 

each sweeping second 

memories drench 

this fierce & fragile mirage set 

as sparrows and chinook breezes 

melt the snow 

pulse the breath to passage narrow 


new year's wonder glow 


the wind picks up

 lenticular clouds mark the blue 

altering hours to silver passages 

tucked between oak branches & distant highways 

sleepy grows the morning as pine siskins follow the sun 

allowing the richness of corners & dust motes to beckon 

the stars 

Tuesday, February 23, 2021

whispers

 carved ring of wood black 

summer green grass 

horses & tumbleweeds 

of first snow smell 

handfast 

pressed to stars & rivers path 

the wonder of heart to night 

flesh to air cold with winter's snap 

sliding thru the inbetween 

time tumbles marbles on a sidewalk 

sixty years on 



Sunday, February 21, 2021

february

 through a lens polished by a winter's sun 

one finds an imprint of death traced upon skin grown accustomed to solitude

lacquered by sixty years of summer cherries

and hope 

Oh what wonders lie just beyond this day

tucked into time & stars & the smell of blue 

what remarkable brilliance rests alongside the cut 

so sharp the angle of winter light 

deceivingly soft the drifts of snow 

weary the day 

dark will be the night 

following the brightness of this winter sun