DREAM DREAMER

we stand under a moon gazing upward at its silver face from our earthly spinning diorama of cities and oceans where we silently gather, leaning on the uncertainty of our place, questioning without answer, the miracle suspended in a dark sky

PASSING SILENT

eyes of clouds watched over me in faintest of darkness or summer shoreline, on equal or unequal ground, beneath the place I stand, wondering upward where currents swirl unnoticed above me as I glance into a vapor face passing without voice like the dreams I know in the invisible

SYMPHONY

rivers of thoughts are words reacting in a struggling orbit, encouraging   the moment to go into the wind, not fight it while digging deep but not too deep, within the chest of your earth as it expands then relaxes, creating pause, while holding back like the patience of an insect, jumping or flying only … More SYMPHONY

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DISTANCE

he stretched to the moon his hand, fingers pointing into unknown fathoms with an ethereal line breaking beyond gravity and limits as he stood on the soil of his part of the earth looking up into the dark and black tempting, taunting the distance from her to there in defiance 

THERE BEFORE US

each year a roadside meadow bordered by stonewalls breathes a harvest of wild flowers and weeds sharing soil and space rain and wind seasons of change providing evidence of a glorious gift      

LEANING

darkness covers the linen of skin, folding over with day lost, the sky closes out   the feel of sun warm breezes surrender to shadows replacing colors with a flat gray like layers of curtains,   the first call of night leaning into stillness  

A CASUAL MOMENT

dragging the hand through freshly tilled soil stirs silent spirits to life, encouraging a closeness a purpose of being as the hand passes through previous millennial seasons each with a message of endurance and promise, impartial to flowers or weeds for this year or next  

VAPORS AND MISTS

the meadow absorbs a light morning rain breathing it out by late afternoon as I walk through with my arms extended vortices from rising vapors twist off the ends of my hands forming contrails drifting silently to the ground without any evidence as I reach the other side

RUNNING THE RACE

we are water within a great river   singular not yet seen   we move in flocks and herds   down roads climbing stairs to doors unfamiliar   within a few there is a calling a message scrawled on the heart of a gift yet used   we are a great rush of sound over … More RUNNING THE RACE

WORDS AND WIND

It’s the perfect part   the best of day   innocence unafraid and promises of gold   I hear words in the wind   inviting clouds form as the earth spins beneath me   memories never expected to melt away remain safe   still full of breath