Best Oaks Poems

O the warmth and the depth of the sun, o’er us,
for the yellows and reds, as they throw their shine
on the maples and oaks and...

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If no longer could I inscribe, upon tapestries of rosy skies,
Dreams tinted violet, blossomed in themes amethystine,
And no longer could I weave-in the dreamscapes of...

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Looking down my tree lined street

the setting sun casts her glow

upon the Chestnuts, Maples, and Oaks

dressed in worn out yellow ribbons 

telling the story of...

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Nourished by garland skies of scarlet blue
And velvet grass in golden green festoon
September wed us; one heart, made of two

Days of turquoise kisses, too much,...

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steel clouds once more freeze
bare trees comfort each other
ripped trunk holds it together

the sun shields its eyes
its flames dying in Winter
the core feels the biting...

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Abandon Dead Trails And Thy Sybarite Lust

If Nature's earthen-fires thy bosom holds
and thy heart's countenance mind's eye thus sees;
life serves best those adventurously bold,
walking worn...

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i Trees

A kaleidoscope cathedral rustling,
hustling life-light into every thinning limb.
Earth-emblems embalming every rogue
marauding cell in resin. Violent poppies
dripping blood-petals on never-ending war.
Wood knots are eyes,...

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She kept it all inside her
and never spoke a word,
though her thoughts flew and darted
like a trapped and frantic bird.

Inside her was a garden
that was...

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I recall a dirty sidewalk
running in front of grandma's house
with bumps and cracks from the roots
of ancient white oaks

Meandering down to the levee
with cane poles...

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Beyond the gloom and grey of worldly ills
I pass through flowered fields and rolling hills.
A mountain sleeps beneath great oaks and pines
That shade the giant...

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Yellow ribbons furl
on oaks that line our driveway
as we await your return.
Their luster's now pale,
reflecting the challenged hope
of a son you’ve never met....

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As last surviving acorn,
I hang about all day.
My skin is smooth and swarthy
Beneath a chic beret.
Horse chestnuts call me puny
But I don’t really care
For Mother...

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Gentle light flows through the pines,
Inviting the oaks, the laurels, to sigh,
Echoing soft breath, smoke rising –
Mist in the sky, a moment of silence
Breaks the...

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Once upon a weedy lawn
At Cedar Oaks Retirement Home
There sat my mother, weak and old
On an afghan knit to block the cold.

It was summer, but...

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When doves on evenings, calm and still, call out a hollow tone,
They rouse a medley, old as time, so few have ever known.
The whispered lines...

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