Oct 18 2018

yes, i will dance with you

but not because we’re partners
or even romantic dreamers
but because
that is just the way of things
this two step
wide waltz
samba
tango
cha cha
rubbing me raw
even as it burns
the corners
of my sanity

mist and smoke
are indiscernible
from a distance

and i
am yours
on the edge
of this loon lake
water
mountain

rising high
through cold waves
to block
the valiant tendrils
of another
persistent-colored
grey day
sunrise

.

.

.


Oct 7 2018

the way things sometimes are

i sat on a deck
by a lake
in the mountains

and watched a bat
fill the sky
with pattern

miles and miles and miles
away
things were being broken

hearts
laws
a country

a document
we’ve forgotten
to remember

the same idiot wind
playing loud
in both places

burning holes
in an atmosphere
of calm

silence is a lie
we tell ourselves
at dusk

transparent wings
gently flapping

.

.

.

title and idiot wind ~ bob dylan. photo by my three-year-old granddaughter.

Aug 20 2018

in my yard

the trees are dying.

okay, only two out of seven
but they’re my favorite two and
when i walk outside
to listen to whispers

i hear the sounds of mourning.

.

already
i feel time slipping through bent fingers

already
i’ve picked a place to bury sun-bleached bones

already
i’m learning the words
to a song i’d prefer not to sing

.

that’s not to say
i don’t watch the sunset

that’s not to say
i don’t smile when the moon
knocks on my window

that’s not to say
i don’t sing with the robin at sunrise

it’s just to say
i notice.

the trees are dying.

.

.

.


Jan 1 2018

the first

a frozen sunrise
leaps between trees shocked
by the cold of reality
on a morning left behind
by a year
marked with double-time
mis-step
black heels pounding
history’s false rhythm
good evil
light dark
black white
grey pavement winding
forward
the only
right
direction

.

.

.

Joining in over at dVersePoets for Quadrille.