Shoreline
as the tide comes in
the quiet surf erases
our mingled footprints
–
salt breezes
clammers digging
in the wet sand
as the tide comes in
the quiet surf erases
our mingled footprints
–
salt breezes
clammers digging
in the wet sand
a hot summer morn
in the curl of a turned leaf
the gathering dew
–
a ringing anvil
collecting
beads of sweat
flooded rice paddies
on the roadside sheaves of straw
drying in the sun
–
high spring sun
nimble fingers
sowing wheat
living day to day
ignoring where I’ve been and
what the future holds
–
frost on the grass
awake in the dark
breathless and immobile
seeking your guidance
for I cannot find my way
alone through the dark
–
an eerie green glow
eyes wide open
in the darkness
the low morning sun
behind a red crepe myrtle
it’s branches aflame
–
fresh snow
blowing alight the coals
of last nights fire
distant sirens wail
slowly I realize that
you’re not coming home
–
a warm shower
startled awake
by the telephone
well seasoned hardwood
crackles and hisses as it
slowly turns to ash
–
rolling seas
a cigarette cupped
against the wind
freshly cut flowers
in a wreath of fallen leaves
laid upon your grave
–
curled sepia photos
seeds taking root in
freshly turned earth
a slice of the night
carved out of a starless sky
gleaming, motionless
–
chaff in the wind
burnished brass
low on the horizon