She took her comfort there
and gave it to her own
when lightning-streaked howling winds
on moonless nights
roared in to steal their sleep.
~ ~ ~
Bliss
Morning charcoal wakes them with her silent fury.
Tawny finch and cardinal friends compete for crumbs.
Ceiling fan quiet still its dusty blades stalled up there.
Nature gentle whispers tender soothe the aged oak.
Rolling doors bang, slam and howl down at the tracks.
Them on motored rubber dare the signal cries out red.
Sirens scream like arrows pierce billows toward the smoke.
Angel five on her birthday skips merry off to school.
~ ~ ~
Brushstrokes
She drew me
in her picture
in colors would not run.
I watched her eyes
atop her canvas and
though ’twas not for me to see
what she drew there,
’twas through her eyes
I knew the colors.
~ ~ ~
Intersect
The season tries a different road.
Forked.
Which way to wander?
Am I swayed unto the summer,
Coerced there by the fall?
Vanilla picket fence runs ’round where
daisy blooms paint verdant meadow
stirred them ‘neath a southern breeze blows fickle,
pokes and pelts a restless heart.
I pray of thee
invite me pause
there rest aside you
whilst I dwell in thine embrace,
try snare each moment ‘ere it flees
where hearts like rustling rivers whisper,
their gentle spring come-hithers beckon.
Let them not be lost unto the night
there where him of her his silence pleas,
“Give thine hand to soothe mine sorrow,
rub me clear of all regrets and faded recollects,
unlike youth long gone to live in yesterday?”
Tangled tether ties us to our hopes,
new season sows them, bloom today tomorrow’s seeds
in fertile bed where guiding light assures
No need no more to wander with our youth.
~ ~ ~