gypsy notes a vagabond song refreshing, like spring rain, the fragrance rising from warm roads a moment alive sounds from angels a familiar language fluid and flowing a joyful expression breaking within the air circling like mighty winds striking solidly a message completed
I see a remembrance shadow in most places catching my breath holding me hostage to the step, the sound familiar, unchanging from the before and the after, moving within the circle, smoothly rolling under stars and smiles from a moon as I walk into night quiet
Discovery of voice A print of oneself Black and white photos The shape of us Multiple shades and shadows Memory reflections Voices in the wall Reappearing seasons Reality to fiction Mirrors mark time Searching for the edge Discovering the unexpected One more length to go Prayers answered The other side
it was a gray tunnel there was a man wearing an overcoat and hat his back toward me walking quickly away, weaving to the sides, heavy steps raising dust from a crimson road he was joined by a white bird, its wings covering the man his image lost as the creature … More FLEETING IMAGE
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
smoldering residue the invisible below, the surface challenged, a psalm in sunlight, a road leading home, ghosts with wisdom, scholars misunderstood, a passage of hope, a hand full of help, a shoulder worth bearing, a compass forward, a door and another door, the message received, the quiet within creates order
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
a gust of evening wind cools the skin while I follow a path beneath pine boughs and their sweet aroma an opening light of the moon brushes past mists of ghosts stars appear like diamond footsteps pointing toward home as night follows close by my side
the ocean is in eventide the pausing of waters before obeying the change ghosts of twilight hide within its stillness as a deep and distant rumbling stirs the edges of all horizons splintered clouds inspect the madness unfolding below where waters tempt the brave and foolish
She is an open field a spirit cloud of linen a breath between waiting the shades of trial and error a host of tumbling thoughts her prayers offered without answers hidden in rhymes and verse she falls into waiting arms like a fear captured
Roger Singer 