Morning

There was a moment
when colors graced the morning,
before clouds converged.

Morning Haiku

The rain is so light
It is like snowflakes falling,
dancing on sunlight.

Amidst Chaos

We embrace,

the air acrid and thick,

dust and particles

cling to our clothes.

We embrace,

debris is scattered about,

fallen walls, ceiling tiles,

glass, shrapnel and suitcase contents.

We embrace,

unable to hear the cries,

the shouts, the sirens,

the questions.

We embrace,

holding tight to each other,

oblivious to the chaos,

and the bleeding man

on the ground behind us,

reaching for his own

salvation as

we embrace.

.

another bombing…discussion of who, why,

and how do we stop it become increasingly irrelevant.

I was struck while reading of a photo of a couple

who looked to be standing outside hugging

while a man lay on the ground behind them,

clothes ripped and bleeding.

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Mighty Oak

Oh, mighty oak,
tree of destiny,
from seed to sapling
to lone pillar of bough and bark.

Oh, mighty oak,
there were plans for thee,
host to tire swings and bold climbers,
shade for picnics, shelter for young lovers.

Oh, mighty oak,
none will weep for thee,
shunned for the strength of your limb,
though you knew naught of black or white or brown.

Oh, mighty oak,
tree of destiny,
not for pleasure as should be,
known now only as the hanging tree.

Games

She knows the
game

 ……………every rule memorized
           each move instinctual

but studies the
……………………………………………..player

knowing the outcome
…..not
 …….by
 ……….the
 ………….board

but by the

………………faces

for the Mag

Born of Atoms

There is a revelation to be found

if you are           still          enough

to bear witness

standing in a field at night
— or forest meadow —.
beneath a clear sky
.                       where stones sing a lament

..           of ages never to return

and stars       breathe        whispered       legends

        of their source

Each moment a                cycle
of your destined               journey,
a line of the                       story
we were born to               tell.

Impressions

The browns of the yard blur

into the beginning
of greens,
while early white and pink

pear blossoms

begin to fall.

It reminds me of a washed out

Monet — maybe

Spring Landscape,

or Meadow at Giverny,

without the blue,

and less light —

much like how the world

is out of focus

as she drives

away.

Things We Can Hold

How
we seek
that which we
can grasp, control,
when things of import
more often resemble
the feeling the first time you
held a baby — fragile, unsure —
or attempts to embrace wisps of smoke,
or reaching for a hand no longer there.

an etheree for dVerse

Dreams

In the one dream,
we sit by the water,
wait for words to come,
and listen as day
transforms to night.

In the other,
you do not object to being
presented with flowers,
eyes shining as your hand
eases into mine.

In each
there are
tears
and the fullness
of silence.

Winter Garden

There is a stillness as I wander

the rows of the winter garden,

peaceful,

waiting for warmth.

Anticipation hides beneath the frost,

content with knowing seasons turn,

patient,

yet eager for the thaw.

The quiet is broken only by the wind

as it causes the dead leaves to rustle,

pretense

of growth and renewal.

The children watch from the window,

curious about my evening stroll,

ponder

what I search for in the cold.

There is a stillness as I wander,

content with knowing seasons turn,

prelude

of what I search for in the cold.