Author Archives

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Camaraderie

autumn leaf

(internet photo)

They come together two by two.
One arrives alone.
A pilgrimage to the mountains.

Hillside blazes yellow, orange and red,
leafy flames igniting trails high above the valley.
Footsteps crunch.
Laughter piggy backs on the wind.
Two ravens swoop in unison,
wing tips brushing conversations below.

Robust feasts surround
fermented offerings.
Drunk with stories, new and old,
words sway and wobble among the guests.

Log walls stand stone still.
Observing.
Mum to all.

In the morning
flowered china,
chipped and cracked,
holds warms muffins
and fresh fruit.

They depart, as they came,
in pairs, and one alone.
A simple reminder
that solitude does not have to mean
lonely.

by

Splash a Rhythm

rain

Music tapped at my window this morning.
A wet beat ran down my pane and dripped into my dreams.
I awoke with a song in my head, a moisture chorus
surrounding my world in a watery ditty.

Rain dropped and trickled,
plopped and splashed,
It dribbled and drizzled,
sprinkled and sprayed.

Like an amateur band jamming for fun, enjoying simple play,
the showers continued their invitation to come out;
to hum in the mizzle, and stomp in the mist,
splash a rhythm in puddles and create my own tune;
an impromptu session, special performance
with Madame Nature.

by

Primitive Figures

caveart

(internet photo)

Her voice, a gentle breeze
softly turns my ears.
Her eyes, dark waters,
submerge her hard earned wisdom.
A newsprint roll is tucked under an armpit.
Primitive figures on colorful cards she is selling,
dance behind dirty plastic.
She brushes stray hairs from her face.

I smile across our class, our heritage, our histories.
We are two feet apart, miles away from contact.
She lowers her eyes. I squirm in my casual trappings.

I offer money to purchase her cards. I talk too fast,
smile too broad. My rabbit-hopping heart cannot
keep up to my whirling dervish mind. The heavy air is
difficult to breathe.

She chants gratitude, over and over, head bowed.
I tell her, “It is nothing, really, no problem at all.”
I leave, my center hollow,
nothing to redeem me,
nothing at all.

by

Buried Artifact

La-Venere-di-Milo_325x435

(La-Venere-di Milo: internet photo)

Silt shifts; like a silk dress in a breeze,
creamy folds expose buried artifacts of a restless spirit.
Nubile naked truths tease.
Glimpses of a white shoulder, a bare thigh,
peep through spongy mud.
Shallow water sculpts seductively
over hidden treasure.
Patient stream erodes murky riverbed.
Venus arises.
Her polished eyes gleam.