Spirit
passing the graveyard-
a pale white lady rises
from tendrils of fog
–
solemn silence-
hands clasped
in a circle
passing the graveyard-
a pale white lady rises
from tendrils of fog
–
solemn silence-
hands clasped
in a circle
wind at the windows-
as I move to tend the fire
the cat takes my seat
–
late winter morn-
my calico sleeps
in a patch of sun
ripples on ripples-
the pond’s once glassy surface
welcomes back the rain
–
a forest lea-
the doe and her fawn
return to the wood
clutching thoughts and prayers
while we let those who suffer
slip through our fingers
–
predawn chill-
sleeping children
suddenly fatherless
horizontal rain-
fractured palms and broken dreams
tumble down the street
–
dark greasy smoke-
The sky lit
by falling embers
dull red numerals-
precious sleep stolen away
minute by minute
–
the wee hours-
eyes wide open
In the darkness
gauzy white and gray
shifting in the breeze on a
cerulean sea
–
morning sun-
dust rises from
the desert floor
the treetops aglow
crimson branches reaching to
touch the new born sun
–
unfolding leaves-
the morning sun
kisses the trees
#sunrise
bright silver moonlight
streaming in through the skylight
pooling on the floor
–
quicksilver-
the full moon
above the trees
blowing on my tea-
before dawn the feral wind
roars in frustration
–
walking my dog-
the wind nips
at my heels