War
twisting in my sleep
I smell the blood and cordite
and lotus flowers
–
torrential rain-
countless lost
to take a hill
twisting in my sleep
I smell the blood and cordite
and lotus flowers
–
torrential rain-
countless lost
to take a hill
late autumn sun-
rising waters crack the ice
from an early freeze
–
a white canvass-
fresh gesso broken by
crocus blossoms
blowing on my tea-
before dawn the feral wind
roars in frustration
–
walking my dog-
the wind nips
at my heels
late winter garden-
a calico patchwork of
leaves and melting snow
–
a hollow log-
rain falls
on melting ice
golden fields of wheat-
long blades of giant windmills
lazily turning
–
arid sun-
sagebrush
swirls in wind
slowly settled in
every movement painful with
these old weary bones
–
well worn stones-
shore water’s
ebb and flow
withered autumn leaves-
not sure if he’ll live to see
another sunrise
–
desert stars-
hard and blue
in the moonlight
early spring flurries-
a young robin perches in
snow covered holly
–
peach sunrise-
frost glazes the
juniper berries
strange muted voices
filtered through thin hotel walls
keeping me awake
–
overcast-
alone again
far from home
snow laden branches
bent over in silent prayer
to the cold north wind
–
unanswered prayers-
the stone floor cold
against his cheek