September 2016 – Page 2

a wolf’s low howling
echoes down the canyon walls
mournful and hollow
–
bathed in sunlight
a new swallowtail
unfurls it’s wings

awash in the tide
a ruined galleon lists
her cannons askew
–
prevailing winds
limping home
on torn sails

on the horizon
thunderclouds loom low, heavy
with impending rain
–
pounding drums
turning slowly to
polite applause

as dawn approaches
the breath of autumn whispers
in the swirling leaves
–
barefoot at dawn
walking in the surf
I draw you closer

as night turns to day
the glow of the morning star
hidden by the dawn
–
last night’s coals
by my breath
flare to life

steering through the shoals
drawn in by the siren’s song
of my flannel sheets
–
coveting
the cool side
of her pillow

lacy spanish moss
draping across Savannah’s
majestic live oaks
–
wooden rocking chair
under a porch fan
tatting doilies

windows thrown open
sheer curtains gently wafting
in the evening breeze
–
becoming Icarus
flying westward
chasing the sun

working the block plane
paper thin curls of maple
littering the floor
–
a snowy owl
gliding silently
across the night

a symbol of strength
welcoming travelers that
seek her destruction
–
in the forest
of fallen oaks
a sapling grows