Song of Souls

In the low breath of a summer swoon
curled around the exhale
that bares your yearning heart...

In the austere notes of winter's still
heard between the ache of limbs
that carry you on your weary search…

In the trails of leaves, that weightless fly,
with a waning innocence that belies
ho… Read full post »

 

---

  

 

Last night I made a list of “Things To Do” as I wait your return. I will finish the laundry, take out the trash and vacuum the rugs as if it is you I fold, carry…touch. I’ll drive in late afternoon traffic, passing through the litany of… Read full post »

 

The Bronze Star hangs there inconspicuously, but one of the assorted constellation of buttons and other that adorn the frayed fishing hat. Each day the old man arrives to join the many who drift through the gate.

Of Asian descent, American born - he has quiet, kind eyes and a… Read full post »

River's marsh hems
eddy and sway -
their simple wealth
of stories told
in secreted messages,
Her rustled sand skirts
in sighed whispers
drift to ear to weave
then dance away.
Magnificence
hidden inside
Insignificance - 
 
Ochre leaves lift
through wet black root,
silence breathes
the murmurs of life.
E/… Read full post »

   

 

   Quilt

Your broadloom land is ripe.
Tilled fields of coppered rust
unfurl their edges to stand
elbows rubbed against
the patchwork kinship
of high, late summer corn

Sentinel boulders
pin down quartered fields.
Rustling, leaned shoots eddy,
as gold-grain… Read full post »

How fine this sense,
so like the lingering melt
of mother's wet breast
to the babe's curled tongue;
a bathing,
delicious
and so tender,
you are... 

Played against light,
an unmade morning scroll.
Soft, the sighs of delight
where winter's trials now fade...
their not quite indelible score
inscribed-
incise…

Read full post »

fine silken threads

adorn the tossed bed

where lovers have just lain

crumpled sheets

cast to floor

as nakedly,

a hand reaches,

brushes the stray strand

from grey-eyed gaze...

she has drifted

into this moment,

her own reverie

unguarded before him

will he realize

the gift to… Read full post »

I remember
bare feet
upon
a narrow path-
the hoarfrost bite-
how we quietly traced 
that winter lake.
 
 
A lowland snow
has called
me here,
set upon ice.
 
Naked, I listen
echoes bounce off shoreline,
deep woods behind,
there is no cover
where I stand,
caught

the thrill
of the loon;… Read full post »

The Old One is a gatekeeper who hears the mountain speak. Wordless depths and breadths drink the sighs from an ageless well poured soft beneath her skin. Quietly, siren songs course the undulate wind, to linger in belly and womb. The mountain’s songs have found a home in heart and sinew,… Read full post »

 

The small cottage stands,
clung to transient air.
Brush strokes in wet wash-
the moody shoreline light strewn,
striated with silken seaweed,
abandoned exoskeletons,
of now-weightless starfish,
left beneath parched silver drift,
facades turned
toward rhythmic water
fathomless
fleet
ricochet dia… Read full post »

A Vermeer light has come,

its warm diffused kisses

enticed, unaware, to gleam

as one contemplates

loosely woven reveries.

It casts an indulgence

to opposing shadows-

A chiaroscuro liaison

with two ripe, fragrant pears

placed in an aging copper colander… Read full post »

 The Lake

I was drawn
from conjugal bed
the accomplice messenger
among Luna and wolves-

for a squall
had risen,
as lakes of stars
cried out
for my midwife hand-

and I-

I bent in ecstasy...
to know the anguish
birthing quivered light.

Did you hear
air sigh… Read full post »