Wind
leaning back eyes closed
listening to the whitecaps
as they roll on shore
–
salt spray-
roaring wind
in my ears
leaning back eyes closed
listening to the whitecaps
as they roll on shore
–
salt spray-
roaring wind
in my ears
unspeakable acts-
unlearned lessons of the past
repeating again
–
cattle cars-
disappear within
the gates of hell
dusty fountain pens-
drawers full of love letters she
never meant to send
–
in the stacks-
quietly I try
to catch your eye
fingers intertwined
your slippered feet atop mine
before the fire
–
two dozen years-
still waking up
next to you
the last white rhino-
a moment of extinction
right before our eyes
–
blood in the dirt-
a portrait with
his latest kill
blue moonlight drips through
holes in the tattered shingles
onto the barn floor
–
peeling red paint-
the barn door
hangs askew
flat black soulless eyes
devoid of humanity
staring back at me
–
cold city street-
trying not to see
the homeless
the constant north wind-
a forest of leaning trees
hunched against the cold
–
april fools-
a robin’s tracks
in the snow
rivers of sunlight-
the waking ocean meets the sky
and the coming dawn
–
sunrise-
morning glory
blossoms
a once proud lighthouse
wind battered, cracked and aging
still stands defiant
–
chalk cliffs-
scoured by
an angry sea