Posts
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A Story Whirls Into View
My feet spin my bike pedals,
Pushing me along the trail
As stories invade my focus.
My mind swirls,
Colors whirl,
As ideas emerge from the flurry.
Names fill my head,
Plots come into view,
Places teleport into my thoughts. -
A Capability of Beauty
The warm, salty waves wash away,
Swirling patterns in the sand,
Sending crabs and clams
Burrowing into the rock grains.
The waves churn the sand,
Uncovering, leaving behind,
Delivering small,
Delicate treasures: -
A Glowing Aura of Relaxation
The sun dips behind the mountains,
Only some of the light shines,
A peachy aura emerging.
The whispy clouds hover gracefully,
Letting themselves drift with the wind,
The peace settling into the mist,
Refracting the glow, -
Appreciating Where Flowers Will Emerge
I trace my fingers across the grass,
the little green shards,
the silky plants tickling my skin.
It has survived the winter,
the dry brown it had become
slowly disappearing,
turning rich green from the sun. -
Getting Where I Want to Go
My sneakers hit the pavement,
The constant sound of the thwapping filling the nipping,
Early spring air.
My breath comes slow but heavy,
Before being like a soft summer breeze,
Now like a strong wind, -
An Interacting Community of Light
I stare out the plane window,
gazing at the illuminated buildings.
The clusters of orange and yellow lights,
forming the shapes of roads,
streets, and homes.
They spread out like a map,
inky darkness showing the desolate areas,
Loves
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Spoke Up
I jump in my friend's car.
It's filled basically to the brim.
The area is small and compact.
How did she fit this many people in her tiny car?
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pensées sur le chou-fleur
cut the cauliflower, as they cut you
wash the cauliflower, when you wash away your sorrow
sprinkle pepper
sprinkle salt
sprinkle cheese
sprinkle love & home, until it's enough
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Tiger Stripes
When my hair begins to grey, I will rejoice.
My crow’s feet will race farther than my aging joints could ever take me.
They will run down my cheek and jaw to meet my laugh lines,
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It is Far More Beautiful
Sometimes I look into the reflection and see the little boy with forest green eyes
begging the world to end so he wouldn’t feel anymore.
But then I see an old cripple
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summers before
I haven’t been to upstate New York since I was ten years old and we drove away from our house there without looking back.
