Seek to become

a stillness

of stone

in sunshine

and storm

where unknowing

is norm

and no seeking

is needed.

What Sky Tastes Like

fragrance of blue

kissing

texture of pink

Labor's Love

Dozens of flat stones,

each eccentric, angular,

mottled in earth tones, many

cracked or worn smooth

by time's erosions

and ordeal's fissions and fusions,

line a 50 foot concrete block wall,

this cast of characters perched

nestling in precarious

congregation, covering like puzzle

pieces a long brief life somehow

finally coming together to complete

a unique evolving shape,

bringing ease on the wings

of the softest breeze

this late winter's morn, this time

of belonging fully to my own life

where the surprising speech

of andesite, granite and schist

carries the fragrance and weight of silence

through canyons of sky burrowing

into moist soil amidst wildflowers stained

with tears and waterfalls of laughter booming--

ahhhh, such an unplanned late,

imperfect blooming....

      Birthday Prayer

I want to live wildly serene

like spindrift flying off an ocean wave

sparkling in afternoon sunshine;

I want to live like the 10 year-old boy

dipping low to sneak a sniff of his grouchy

neighbor’s pink rose, savoring each inch

of smell that meets a happy nose;

I want to live like an old woman

sipping coffee in Autumn, wrapped

in her favorite sweater, remembering

her first love; I want to live like a waterfall

plunging at trail’s end down 100 feet

of granite onto a laughing man exulting

below, his tingling pink skin soaked

forever, like a cloud his upturned face

bows before his god; yes! I want to live

like Walt Whitman singing of himself

and everyone who has lived while he dances,

wrestling with his pals in the basement,

and those multitudes he contains.

    HOME

Joy lives here.

On a small hearth made of wood

And stone and time.

An alert ivory seahorse rests

On a black pedestal in the living

Room, a presence calm and lasting.

Above him, an ocean wave forever

Breaking onto a pebbled shore

And two neon hummingbirds exulting

In the company of a fat moon

And that bursting litany of stars….

        Precipice

 

The man’s body is tanned, taut and

Erect against the face of the cliff.

 

This cliff that lifts itself up and out

Past a shining moon.

 

Fingertips and toes scraped raw

Search for tiny outcrops of rock

To assist the ascent.

 

A conversation only they

Can hear between Stone and

Man ensues. He is agile:

 

Chest rests on her granite,

Infinities of space at his back,

Thoughts like light, unified

Simply precise on this

Precipice.

 

She : unforgivingly real, loves

His heart so close, a silence

Near dusk and as vast, washed

Chestnut brown.

After hours of grueling argument

Here on this blade of knife, the edge

Of life, they melt, dissolve into

Agreement that all is

 

Fragile, everything

Erodes, our dreams

Do sing, and

 

Every singer is ascending.

   While Loving 

Your feet are my pillow

Your hands, my bedspread 

Your voice, my sun

This resting in silence, our

Moonlight on water....