faced into seasons swept to the edges where clouds form at tree tops, lazily, like an afternoon nap as cotton curtains stir to the gift of breezes and bright shades of white reflect off the ocean, bowing to blue skies
words slip through boundaries of light and shadow between fences posts past sleeping cats words are strength from imagination fathoms words become whispers in night promises in morning begging hurting believing following into dreams yet to appear
voices descend through the fire escape men wearing sleeveless t-shirts drink and smoke women whisper children stare to the sky where clouds shadow the alley a cat sleeps resembling driftwood pigeons gaze down from the rooftop Latin music rich with aroma drifts from a window
The vanity of the ground was altered by a morning rain. the meadow trembled under the wetness pulled from the sky a linen gray horizon without sound slept overhead.
A spiritual journey of ease and discovery the opening of the obscure heart and innocence an inner sermon prospering on hope and delicate dreams of calm distant from whispers and swords the building back of faith from broken stars the hope of creating fires that bind and desires that never sleep
MIDNIGHT PASSED My town sits quiet. The sun has bled out. Blinds are tight. Dog chase cats in their dreams. Stop lights blink red. A billion stars hold silent over our spinning planet. Winds have muscled to another place. Cool air yawns onto lawns and weeds. Dew weeps without crying. The history of … More MIDNIGHT PASSED
Roger Singer 