Monthly Archives: January 2015

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Graceful Partners

They dance
a beautiful dance
as only two exquisitely familiar can.

Age old friends move,
comfortable in each others orbit,
no words necessary.

Arms length apart
graceful glides take place
while chaos reigns around them.

Echo of guns
aimed in the name of a cause
are forgotten for a moment
in the gentleness of the dance.

Slowly, smoothly,
glowing bright then dim,
tides rise, sunsets fade,
each accept the other, waiting in time.

Hungry, homeless
nomads search,
then pause in witness
of the familiar dance.

The ancient duo outlive, outlast,
wars and famine,
great empires and floods.

Steps take them on a path
travelled around
and around,
then around once again.

Their orbit flows
with continuous turns,
an inseparable pair.

Earth and moon,
fluid partners,
inspire devotion
moving along
to their own tune.

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Here

I am here.
Where I sit.
Bent knees folded under
ebony wood desk.
Harsh computer screen light
insists on my attention.

My mind drifts
to a place of gentle beauty, warmth and water.
Lapping waves caress sandy beaches.
Balmy sun rays touch all with a golden
Midas touch.

I am here.
Alone.
Keyboard letters waiting to be tapped,
bills to be paid,
calendar to be adjusted.

My mind wanders.
Here I sit
but there I go.

An eagles vision of all below,
soaring over mountaintops,
gliding above wide open plains,
blank pages before me,
ivory sheets upon my desk.

Here I sit.
I am here.

My spirit roams,
walls and windows pose no threat,
no barrier to this wandering mind.
The world awaits,
a vast outdoors
waiting to be explored.

Here I sit.
Shoulders in knots, fingers kinked,
but there I go.

Lost.
Lost in thought.
Lost in the beauty of a dragonfly wing;
a wispy orange cloud tinged with the sun
dipping down in the west holds me,
holds on to day because this moment nears –
nears rest.
Where east and west come together.
No beginning.
No end.
The earth revolving,
evolving.
And there is so much
to see
to explore.

Yet here I am.

My mind is out the door.

I am here
seated too long.

I am here.

But my spirit
is long gone.

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Epiphany

She startled the afternoon when she strode purposefully into the quiet room.
Flaming red hair, harbinger of her lively essence, tucked casually under a black
wool tuque, low ponytail forgotten. The bright blaze down her back begged
indifference but the exceptional color could not escape notice.
Camouflage pants spilled into bright orange boots, oozing with youthful confidence.
She approached with laidback ease.
Her white teeth, one near the front slightly overlapping another,
satisfied her broad smile.
Loud boisterous laughter rolled from her lips, smacked with a mischievous air.
Her lighthearted presence filled the room.

And I saw what others could not.
Youth choosing life. While her cells waged a battle of their own deep inside,
one destroying another.

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Wind Dance

winter wind

A chilly, desolate wind whistles into a wintertime city.

Snow covered rooftops and bare, unadorned skyscrapers shiver.

Loose shutters knock and rattle on rusty hinges.

Goose bumps rise on flesh touched by raw air.

Dark wool collars are raised high.

Bright, puffy down filled jackets tighten.

Crumpled paper swirls; a colorful tempest of red wrappers, yellow cellophane

and discarded coffee cups whirl, twist, funnel up and down

until a sudden stop

when encountering a dead end alley.

Pedestrians bury themselves deep into winter furs.

Plaid scarves,

Plain scarves,

Scarves of exotic hues and intricate design

protect frosty cheeks.

Stiff boots enclose cold feet tapping anxiously toward indoor warmth.

Little eddies of snow drift across sidewalks,

approaching people sitting around a fire.

Pink, orange, blue and yellow flames light a darkened sky.

Puffs of air rise from mouths and noses.

Puffs of steam rise from hot cocoa mugs cradled by mittens.

Wind dances and sways in delighted bursts.

Puffs of ash spark.

The fire hesitates, then roars as the wind snakes around

trying to get closer to the people.

Wind wants to sing a joyful song, participate with the group.

Blankets and mugs are quickly gathered.

Snow tossed onto the flames.

Burning logs sizzle angrily, sputter and become charcoal.

Hasty kisses peck rosy cheeks.

Discordant good-byes are called out through blowing snow,

and

All are gone.

Wind remains.

Lonesome.

Misunderstood.