Thursday, February 9, 2017

one day




One Day

The lake sings in ripples.
I cannot hear its music quite,
yet know it's beautiful, alive
and true.

Twelve gulls burst bright
in wild play, white feathered
bells, scintillas of light, ring
across their stage of sky.

Their melodic flight dapples
and sweetens my ears, hair kissed
by rolling wind, skin pleased
by hovering sun.

I stand in mud and tall grass
to give thanks for this shimmering
surprise, these breezes of calm
and colored chaos, this quiet
background tune.

My eyes replenished turn
to the long hill beyond
where I shall ease too soon
onto the slim path clear to home.

Monday, February 6, 2017

gripping

a snail grips
the bathroom
wall.

twin filaments,
slick as spit, do
downwards
tip.

how did such
a slimey twerp

sans cap,
or shoe,

cane
or map,

without lit match,

set out
one day
to roam

while traipsing
glacial slow,

and make
his snaking
path inside

our simple
human home?

Monday, January 23, 2017

PEST CONTROL

It's afternoon in Winter,
your head down, locked
inside work and thoughts

of tomorrows, vital
minutiae sprawl like spiders
across mind's attic,

and a girl under a white
Krispy Kreme cap
of crinkled paper, her
jeans ripped in both knees,

grinning, trips you
with her foot. Laughter
bursts out of you, arachnids

scatter from your brain's tunnel
abandoning this surprised
awakening for a moment,

(or maybe forever)

as you turn
and bow
to the maiden.

for Quincy

Nobody,

Not the sparrow
gossiping on
the limb,

Nor the steady breeze
jitterbugging
these leaves,

Nor amber honey
kissing my pot
of tea,

Nobody,

Has cheeks
as sweet
as these.

Friday, January 20, 2017

Conversion

At the bottom of a hidden canyon,
green sings    rocks grin
under skins of lichen.

I come alive again
as if inside
a beautiful woman

whose hazel eyes shimmer
like the wind, like tendrils
of sage..

Our every cell dances
waterfalls of lust
and godliness

as we linger
in quiet,

listening for cougar
while dusk quickens,

kissing great boulders

in a torrential
unplanned 
conversion.


Nobody,

not even the stream
humming at the bottom
of the hill

nor the silent fir tree
alone at the top..

Nobody,

has such shimmering
hazel eyes....