April 2017 – Page 3

you’re my cinnamon
my sugar, salt, my pepper
the spice in my life
–
open windows-
a cool breeze
tousles your hair

trapped by bitter cold
prison bars of leafless trees
holding me steadfast
–
spring snow-
steaming tea
fogs the window

the wind whips and snarls
down across the galleries
with malice at heart
–
whispering pines-
deep in conversation
with the trees

washing off the day
a trail of discarded clothes
strewn out behind her
–
disturbed reverie-
on my journey
an empty snake skin

one final look back
collar turned up against the
horizontal rain
–
spring peepers-
the rain of snare drums
on the forest floor

the long autumn sun
shining through the turning leaves
of October trees
–
frosted windows-
winter morning light
spreads across my floor

a lone egret stands
beneath a spreading chestnut
sheltered from the rain
–
thunder snow-
after images of
white lighting

reaching for you as
just beyond my memory
you slip from my grasp
–
withered leaves-
parched soil runs
between my fingers

it’s been a long ride-
this road’s often difficult
but worth the journey
–
apple blossoms-
taken by the
wandering wind

an aging pen knife
coaxes an old fisherman
from a block of wood
–
midday rain-
an empty chrysalis
among the milkweed