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  

HANDS OUTSTRETCHED

shapeless   descending rain onto the skin running the vines of the outstretched hands as welcoming drops drift into random paths directed by gravity and unevenness finally released to the ground, the willing undertaker of the falling from heaven    

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

STANDING BENEATH

piano playing rain lightening flames in a sky burning with storms   drums of thunder the slam of gods wearing armor   heaven backs up from swift winds claiming the air   as rain beats dry dirt with a wet hand    

SOFTLY WE GO

The words spoken were like threads thinning at the elbow, deep thoughts from a cold heart with warm hands   a story of the distant from here about adding to the next step after the last one taken   speaking darkly about alleys cutting between buildings of memories and voices at the clothesline or the … More SOFTLY WE GO

JUMP IN

  At the end of the earth there’s a diving board where grieving souls and soiled hands search for security and a higher calling   there comes a realization there are no road signs or directions   but the hope there’s a safety net after the jump      

OVER HERE

A place strong like a river   surroundings soft on the eyes and easy on the hands   drawing out the best of long fields where sunsets command a second look and rains are infrequent   while angels harmonize in the scent of lavender dissolving the unknown

JUST TO THE SIDE

the shadow staggers behind   out of rhythm humming a song no one ever heard   there were times of shadow separation crossing the line a string of walk-a-ways never followed through or followed up   and the lack of respect the disinterest toward the shadow spending time leaning, fading back, crossing over or through … More JUST TO THE SIDE

SOMETIMES ALONE

Day turns over its hand the imperfect fame and weak applause of dusk follows into nights cover where careless fears settle within a harvest of solitude   the sound of breathing entertains the imagination of rebels  in hiding nearby while in the black beyond there is always something like a vanishing accident or an unused … More SOMETIMES ALONE