Seasoning


Dawn slips in slow notes
over the misted mountains,

Pied leaves
dance to their own rhythms;
photosynthesis is done for this year.

The leaves compete with pumpkins
for that perfect shade of orange
while white tail deer wear their russet coats
with pride.

Fresh faced morning
makes a lazy start. In this seasoning
Spring’s song has long been sung.
Now every dew drop holds a rainbow
and a mirror.

The Moon and Dawn in Passing Nod

In the peace of contemplation
when night is comfortably astir,
the moon sneaks in my window
leaving streaks of silver
in my hair.

A multitude of memories
untouched by time’s extent
rise and swirl around me
like a candle’s drifting scent.

Shadows on the wall
sway to their own symphony,
drifting safely towards oblivion
as the pyrite moon is fading
into new morning light.