Return
the lobsterman’s wife
watching the lighthouse at the
dying of the day
–
silent passage-
darkening water
laps the shore
the lobsterman’s wife
watching the lighthouse at the
dying of the day
–
silent passage-
darkening water
laps the shore
pockets of moonlight
across the rippled surface
of a mountain lake
–
midnight water-
still dragonflies
dimple the surface
alone on the road
speeding towards oblivion
far away from you
–
velvet panic-
our safe word
forgotten
clouds out ash and dust-
the soil of this arid land
affords no purchase
–
orange skies-
rivers of black glass
plunge into the sea
pinpoints of starlight
fall from the firmament and
streak across the sky
–
midnight-
lines of fire
split the sky
dark foreboding clouds
low in the afternoon sky
harbingers of doom
–
soft rain-
broken trees
and power lines
a cool cloudy night-
the horizon aglow with
fingers of lighting
–
dry lightning-
fire licks the walks
of the arroyo
seagulls hovering
wings outstretched and motionless
faced into the wind
–
sunrise-
beach sand in her
wind blown hair
blue moonlight drips through
holes in the tattered shingles
onto the barn floor
–
peeling red paint-
the barn door
hangs askew
rivers of sunlight-
the waking ocean meets the sky
and the coming dawn
–
sunrise-
morning glory
blossoms