he crosses all seasons, jagged paths stitched to paper maps past meadows cleared by hands towns with forgotten names iron fence posts empty buildings exhausted like a defeated fighter one more corner and another, following after like a wheel off balance, desiring a warm cup of coffee to heal the wounds … More FOR JUST A MOMENT
day breezes become captured in the coolness, welcomed through open windows stirring stained restless curtains at days end and nights beginning star carpets and a moon face stare down onto rooftops with their forever light slipping around branches to my favorite chair at meadows edge
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
there, standing beside a forest, its green declaring war with one color, victorious, capturing the eyes with intimidating power a meadow, jealous of rough barked guardians without voice reaching to, almost touching infinity
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
the thickness of night as a cool blanket of air slips onto the yard lifting out a day of warmth windows shut sweaters appear a dark lakes surface humbles even the brave inside cabin lights extinguish like falling stars night sounds filter through aged screened windows the aroma of pine lingers … More I REMEMBER
There’s a ghost in the meadow a shadow in the middle a reflection absent of pain its not the everlasting but you can see it from here the land supports ancient frames unruly hedges and rambling stone walls that unlock the uphill where gravity pulls one onto the footstool of land
A gift of words is the magic the key opening clouds healing holds the temperature of the room diamonds rise as leaves fall a newness provides the power like rivers broken stars mend what was lost resurfaces the moon glazes onto meadows with smoothness
The river is a testament to longstanding, a continuation without interruption the river possesses beauty and strength its banks dappled with brush and half buried trees velvet smooth water the veins of flow to the oceans heart feeds on silt from fields and ancient meadows its motion is a voice it … More RUMBLING
VERDANT Morning. Overlooking formal gardens. The simplicity of human geometric design; a collection of divided order breathed to life. A labyrinth of lines, corners and serpiginous pathways. A solitary obelisk in the middle points heavenward, suggesting prayer. Previously, it was a meadow, until intrigue created design from ideas in dreams pulled down … More VERDANT
Roger Singer 