Some Things Should Never Be Unlearned

…like how to be still
in a field of crimson clover
so chipmunks will seek the comfort
of your heartbeat, and honeybees
will gladly share a stem with no sting

or how to paint your lips ruby hued
with raspberries big as your thumb
while saving enough to fill the bucket
that takes the makings of a cobbler

When shadows visit earlier
each day, pray memory keeps
a fond recall of summer
even as pied leaves
begin their fall.

Before Sleep

There is much to do before sleep,
more than the miles to go
or the bucket list made just for fun.

There are flowers to tend,
oceans to swim
and projects to bring to fruition.

There are things that need remembering:
guitars and bonfires, full moons as yet unseen
and sunsets that steal the breath away.

There are seasons to attend, prayers
to amend, and truths to consider,
a blending of fact and dream.

A gentling at summer’s end when leaves
begin to fall. They must be raked you know
Before sleep.

Summer Squall

A felonious aberration,
that soft pink sky turned red
with morning;
the innocent flowering
of dawn gave little warning.

A disingenuous incantation
that first faint rumble of thunder,
the distant streaks of lightning,
air gone stagnant  like the breath
of some malingering snake oil salesman

hovering, hulking,
lugubrious in the summer noon.
A dark’ing sky,
austere, bereft,
ensnares the atmosphere.

The warring gods attack,
obtuse and cruel they duke it out.
Beguiled by early morning’s smile
we hunker now, waiting
for the storm to end.




The Mood of Mist

The world is wearing mist today,
my eye an impressionistic lens,
my ear attuned.

A watercolor shimmer
of sight and sound
keeps the seasons out of reach,

an abstract masterpiece
this misty twilight with muted sounds
of wood and brook

and there a firefly’s
flickering lantern glow,
perhaps in hopes of rendezvous

or maybe humanitarian,
its goal to light the way
of winding paths.

Surrounded by summer
we remember spring,
a hesitation,

an anticipation..