Futility

in the deep end
endlessly treading water
lest I slip under

sand hill cranes-
a bicycle rusts
amid the cattails

Depth

slow rhythmic rocking
as I’m drawn deep into you
my lover the sea

crying gulls-
lost in your
cold embrace

Justice

who will stand and speak
when there is such injustice
if not I then who?

angry seas-
ramshackle rafts
adrift and lifeless

Age

a rusting iron gate-
beyond the overgrown path
crumbling headstones

bristlecone pines-
deeply rooted
to the earth

Fear

monsters in my head
clamor at the gates of hell
screaming to be let out

the hiss of rain-
slow scratching
under my bed

Descent

as the sun goes down-
I turn the final pages
of this well worn book

a ashen moon-
mist descends
upon the moors

Fog

sand hill cranes glide through
frost smoke on a mountain lake
as the day begins

coming ashore-
fog blankets
the lighthouse

Dead

the village emptied
bodies lay unburied with
no one left to mourn

tumbleweeds-
sun scoured bones
picked clean

Shadows

moonlight in the trees-
silently a cold wind shifts
shadows on the snow

long shadows-
the warm wind
walks me home

Stone

building my fortress
I bury my emotions
beneath the first stone

cacophony-
late night frogs
in my stone walls