he sits, sipping his tea on a porch before meadows and mountains familiar to his voice and supplications, under stars and bright sun, considering dreams, some real some reminders of a good life with songs brightly sung and poetry, the puzzle of words, that some plainly grasp, but for a few, the message remains deep … More CLEARLY
morning breezes carry the keys of day as tides mark the hours and sun creates shade on everything during the current solstice or equinox reminding the short minded, those lacking patience while standing at their edge of their faint hope, summers are fleeting, but memories are forever
a single line of open space, a passage between aging brick walls shadowed with moments of sun, where lies and promises pause randomly, standing unsteady in conversation with no one or privately with equals, whispering like thieves, discussing secrets until choosing separate paths to unknowns
the gray of shadow light bending, fragments of words like wrought iron angel wings kneeling within a drizzle of mist surrounding trees shed of leaves, desperate against seasons strength, fail to retain the youth of spring and summers shade the moon rises strong, casting a glance over night
THE DARKSIDE of the moon hiding its face kindred spirits fastened by a line separating the extremes of fire and ice where time has no standard on surfaces without life static suspended gravity dependent, one side bright the other facing backward with a silent view of undisturbed infinity
morning on the eyes breathing without trying, feet to the floor, a moon landing arriving, stretching like canvas dried in the sun watercolors of the room observed the mirror of truth exposes the shades of a face preparing to change washing and then leaving
he whispered… softly, “one more day,” of sun summer to walk laugh forgive hold pray feel the rain the dirt winter encourage cry sing be kind send a card like myself pet my cat touch the ocean salt air a photo of my parents he whispered softly “one more…. … More SOFTLY
he patiently waits at the café, looking for her and then watches her approach, he thinks… there you are my other glove the shoe that fits the door that welcomes a shoulder waiting the glass half full the moon over waves footsteps together a dance a few whispered words the voice the memories … More AFTER MANY YEARS
I could see words drying on a line washed and dripping under a half sun, moisture fragrant pushed by midday breezes, forming a message of thoughts without speaking, yet resonating within the seed of understanding where the horizon gathers up the remainder of day pulsing with energy to finally set
the house was a fire of voices a child on the front porch sang a song about water and boats floor boards language inner travel from room to room burnt evening skies brushed the house with setting shadows as night breathes out a deep sigh of quiet
Roger Singer 