War

twisting in my sleep
I smell the blood and cordite
and lotus flowers

torrential rain-
countless lost
to take a hill

Broken

late autumn sun-
rising waters crack the ice
from an early freeze

a white canvass-
fresh gesso broken by
crocus blossoms

Windy

blowing on my tea-
before dawn the feral wind
roars in frustration

walking my dog-
the wind nips
at my heels

Melt

late winter garden-
a calico patchwork of
leaves and melting snow

a hollow log-
rain falls
on melting ice

Wind

golden fields of wheat-
long blades of giant windmills
lazily turning

arid sun-
sagebrush
swirls in wind

Age

slowly settled in
every movement painful with
these old weary bones

well worn stones-
shore water’s
ebb and flow

Night

withered autumn leaves-
not sure if he’ll live to see
another sunrise

desert stars-
hard and blue
in the moonlight

Winter

early spring flurries-
a young robin perches in
snow covered holly

peach sunrise-
frost glazes the
juniper berries

Homesick

strange muted voices
filtered through thin hotel walls
keeping me awake

overcast-
alone again
far from home

Prayer

snow laden branches
bent over in silent prayer
to the cold north wind

unanswered prayers-
the stone floor cold
against his cheek