Dream Meeting

    Dream Meeting

Grief, that weathered sidekick,
turns back to look through bleary eyes.

Then tugs my leather wristband
with her strong and hungry fingers

as we walk, talk and
struggle along these ragged

sidewalks. Concrete's cracked,
ravaged rough and weary
by roots of birch, oak and loss.

Yet through the leaves above
we spy the silken silvery moon;

she shines pure grace and mercy
upon our stumbling, scuffed 

and burnished boots.

Dream Meeting

Grief, that weathered sidekick,
turns back to look through bleary eyes.

Then tugs my leather wristband
with her strong and hungry fingers

as we walk, talk and
struggle along these ragged

sidewalks. Concrete cracked,
ravaged rough and weary
by roots of birch, oak and loss.

And through the leaves above
we spy the silken silvery moon;

she shines pure grace and mercy
upon our scuffed stumbling boots.

Hovering Over Coffee

a warm Autumn afternoon,

when one hummingbird
sizzling, flits across 

the Starbucks' parking

lot, flirts with everything before
it first tastes then guzzles
an orange blossom

all the while hovering over hot
concrete like cupid in disguise--

and, for just a moment I am
in this breeze swimming
with enchanted eyes

through classic rock songs swirling

into a Sea of Love
and must hear your answer

now--

Hey..hey baby

I wanna know
if you'll be be my girl?

Question Over Coffee

a warm Autumn afternoon,

when one hummingbird
sizzling, flits across
the Starbucks' parking

lot, flirts with everything before
it tastes
an orange blossom

hovering over concrete,

and, for just a moment I am
in this breeze swimming

through classic rock
songs into a Sea of Love
and must know--

Hey..hey, baby, will you
be my gal?

       Beginning

Ninety strangers step slowly,

Single file, through a Rocky

Mountain meadow. It’s six

On a summer morning, sun

Not yet up over the aspens.

Like one body they heed the signal

And stand still for minutes,

Breathing it all in as moon-glow

Soaks and blesses Red Feather Peak.

After a deep marinade

In the moment’s quiet

They turn back

On this narrow path

Looping past each other

With echoes of sweet

Recognition, open

Eyes receive the welcome

Of friends and dawn’s

Unending bloom.

Presence of an Absence

Grief, three feet ahead

Of me once more,

Tugs my leather bracelet

With hungry fingers

As we walk and talk

Along the uneven

Sidewalk.

Afternoon in the Smokies

The forest awaits

Your steps, sure-footed

On stones as you cross

The stream roofed

with moss.

Then a sudden stopping

In this rain for day’s

Welcome burst on

Your upturned face.

Hear water’s plop and patter

On leaf and fern

Amidst whispers of mist

And moon as memories

Start to shimmer

And shout,

They’re strung like flags,

Bound in fog

Along an elusive

Mountain top.