All

He hath struck me whimsy to no excess,
suspended me ‘neath sun-starched rainbows,
shod me with laces loose and forever soles,
laid down no spurs, no ties to divert me,
and Trusts me assured when shadows lengthen,
will ease me gentle down the Tracks.
~ ~ ~

Enigma

it is the plaintive lament of the sojourner,
his curiosity directed to discovering
what is the fate of the roots,
once them loosed of the Ground?
~ ~ ~

Seafaring

I am of the sea,
starched, awash in brine,
battered, dizzy at the helm,
wind-whipped, countenance corroded,
sun-dried, hardened at the edges,
decaying, rough-hewn of the Ages,
replenish, inter me where the tide is High.
~ ~ ~

Immortal

disclaim me not
In mahogany nor pine,
but find me ashes
blowing in the Wind
~ ~ ~

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