NIGHT REST

I’m on my own line   there’s no sideways just the only road I know   a nameless opening to slip through   the green grass on the other side is well past and without flavor to remember and faces forgotten   night rest now comes easy

CLOCK ON THE WALL

It was a like a movie of memories an afternoon of family pictures unreeling   reflection shadows rainy day card games the aroma of cut grass,   all reminders of heaven without sunshine   and how time cruelly changed leaving some behind while unfolding others stiffly like a washed shirt on a winter clothesline   … More CLOCK ON THE WALL

A FRESH LOOK

It was beautiful because, shaded solitude under a sycamore blanketing a dirt road   durable carpets of moss and grass exhibited proof of ancient inheritance   it’s a bewildering place for those just passing through and an oasis for those walking slowly                      

FRONT LINE

From a distant balcony I viewed the clouds crab by overhead. The winds resonated mixed sounds through boughs of great trees and then buffeted lightly against worn shutters and meadow grass. The sky darkened, I felt like an unknowing outsider, a Philistine, waiting for David. I recognized the approaching weather headline. I lingered as a … More FRONT LINE

ONE PAST YESTERDAY

I pulled down a dream. Opened like a present. I feel a full sun warming me; breezes reinforce the moment. Beach grass bends to rhythm. Bicycles, open shirts, uncombed hair.  Faces without voices.  Water reflections. Warm freshly tarred roads. The fragrance of low tide. Corners without boundaries. Each day writes its own menu. Radios speak … More ONE PAST YESTERDAY