The summer air cools
And the first crickets chirp
In the descending dusk
As dry grass and gravel
Crunch beneath my sneakers
Perched on a stump
A great horned owl
Swivels his head back to look at me
Startling me from scattered thoughts
Of celebrities, financial woes
And childhood nostalgia
We lock eyes for a moment
And before I can reach for my phone
He flies away over the ravine
Leaving me to wonder what
Divinely owlish thoughts
I startled him from in return.
As the leaf of life sleeps upon my lips,
It's as if I've returned from a faraway trip.
It's unfortunate that her sleep won't last;
That her reclining will rapidly pass.
She is the Autumn Season of my life
She's the seasoning that is 'just right.
She would love to linger longer or even stay.
Lord, let her return to visit, I sincerely pray.
She calms my spirit and cools my fiery tongue;
Relakes me, assuring me that I'm not alone.
When the soul-stars dream and die,
Will you be with me when I hurt and cry?
Leaf of life, may there be replacement for you,
If ever for any reason you and I are through.
For now, I'm pleased to have you so near.
The feel of you and the gentle wind is so dear.
I remember the gold that late summer keeps~
not in the fields, but in the soft corners
where light settles without asking.
A lantern rests there~
its glass warm from the day,
holding the small shimmer of evenings
that never learned how to leave.
Memory moves through it gently,
a slow-burn brightness
that refuses to dim even when the air cools.
I lift the lantern,
feeling its weight like a promise
that hope can be carried
even when the path is quiet.
Outside, the sky leans toward autumn,
but the gold stays~
a thin, steady amber
teaching memory how to glow without burning.
a shy drizzle touches the tired, parched earth
lawns lift their heads, remembering green
dust loosens its grip on windowsills
air cools, carrying the promise of change
porches and people breathe easier
Copper bones clanking with the sound of screams far off.
Surrender is the only option I have.
Taking it all to Jesus I kneel and know he has me covered.
Washed in the blood of God himself I am forever joined by Yeshua.
Trusting in perfect peace I am guided by grace.
Planes continue to fly over head.
Thunder crackles through the silence.
The rain hitting the window cools down the summer heat.
I am aware of my own sense of self.
Shackled to my reality I belong as the center of my own experiences.
Echoes of consciousness felt from a first person perspective.
Aware of my limited gnosis I can only rest in my faith in Jesus.
candles
golden whispers
charm our intimate table
as night shrugs off day for this play
drooling wax pools then cools
The desert cools beneath a copper sky,
mesquite leaves tremble in the autumn air;
poppies remember spring but do not cry,
their silence glowing soft without fanfare.
Mesquite leaves tremble in the autumn air,
the mountains blush in rust and fading gold;
their silence glowing soft without fanfare,
a story whispered but never fully told.
The mountains blush in rust and fading gold,
the wind grows gentle, shedding summer’s blaze;
a story whispered but never fully told,
the desert shifts into its twilight phase.
The wind grows gentle, shedding summer’s blaze,
poppies remember spring but do not cry;
the desert shifts into its twilight phase,
the desert cools beneath a copper sky.
There is an open door
An invitation to more
More of what? you ask
Drop what you are doing and drop your mask
Come and see
The Father says to come buy from Me it’s really free
Come without a price or fee,
Step into the mystery.
The waters roll, the wind is high,
Underneath a crown-shaped sky.
Leave the straight lines of the shore,
Trade the task for something more.
Every sign along the track
Whispers that there’s no turning back.
He’s calling out to you and me:
“Come to the river, buy and see.”
The delta breathes a quiet grace,
A stillness in this hidden place.
The cinders fade, the iron cools,
Far from the reach of rigid rules.
For gold is refined in the heat of the fire,
Lifting the soul to a holy desire.
No currency needed, no ledger to keep,
Just deep calling out to the heart of the deep.
So let the old anchors drop into the mud,
Where mercy is flowing, a beautiful flood.
The ink has been written, the spirit set free—
The river is waiting. Come, buy and see.
Written: June 18, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Constance La France
Quote: "The brain discovers, but emotions replicate past occurrences forevermore." By Poet
I glide amid suspense as the air grows dense.
Through amber fractures that scrape the fence,
Still blazed for the thrill your shadows wore—
The anchored verdict, of evermore.
A silted shard of time daze,
A wire-mesh mirror that grate and glaze,
It scrapes the shell where the marrow tore—
A signal throbbing evermore.
Through gullies choked with a sullen scent,
Through spans of gloom where lumber's bend,
Your strobes ignite on the slatted floor—
A sizzling earth expanding evermore.
You lodge inside the strained strain,
A white-hot core that no veil can drain,
The pulsing pitch, I cannot ignore—
A sinew humming evermore.
And after the casing snaps its seam
When digits fuse in a blinding beam,
This vacuum slams on a rock-bound shore—
The engine stilled in evermore.
Though metal cools in the still space.
The spirit-volt is gone, without a trace.
A hissing heat on rusty shore—
the agony intensified, evermore
I close my eyes
A library or whatever there may be
A classroom
A beach
Right in the middle
You is what I see
Always there
Rarely moving
My mind is never free
Something you said
I still remember
I hear it until I don't
It cools and calms like an ember
I couldn’t stop thinking about it
And I won’t
For you is all I see
Traveling for miles
Blowing through sand,making ridges
Cools climate behind
The void was my home for a billion years.
In a few more, I will be returning.
The prospect of my absence induces fears,
but it should not be all to concerning.
There will be no more joy, but no more tears,
and no more heartache or hopeless yearning.
These last decades, I've felt life's painful sting.
but shortly, I won't feel a bloody thing.
Though, this poet will no longer exist,
and I will not have this identity,
my constituent atoms will persist,
and they'll be released, to be wild and free.
My friends will soon be gone. I won't be missed.
Here's my final message to my debris -
find other uses when my body cools,
and embrace the void, my dear molecules.
The alarm rings, morning starts,
coffee cools before it’s dark.
Clock in, clock out, the hours race,
another day gone without a trace.
Screens, machines, the endless pace,
the same four walls, the same old space.
Lunch feels late, then it’s already night,
time keeps slipping just out of sight.
Monday’s gone, then Tuesday too,
Wednesday fades, Thursday drifts through.
Friday’s here before I know,
wasn’t it just Monday, not long ago?
We chase the hours, they don’t stay.
Night turns to morning, then drifts away
We move through work and all we do,
Time keeps moving, it slips right through
But somewhere in the constant motion
a breath, a glance, a fleeting view.
there’s a moment that feels like living,
even as time runs through.
Skin-deep beauty, sure, is an attraction;
Perspectives, yet, must pass beyond the face.
Though fondness can tinge each human action,
Pleasure shouldn't be the goal of life's race.
As buds bloom forth into lovely flowers,
Shouldn't romance pave paths to partnership?
When companionship cools us like showers,
Compassion beads—like honey from combs—drip.
As banks of ponds and lakes of eras break,
And stagnant waters (good and bad) mingle
With streams and brooks in an unending ache...
One's deep divine self does not stand single.
Our wordless words take flight beyond the sight,
Where selfish shadows yield to infinite height.
Spring, as the first rays fall on frozen ground
The dew glistening in the early morning sun
And below ground the green curl begins
As heat from the astronomers source
Penetrates the distant land
The budding fern begins her journey
Long fallen autumnal foliage
Settled over winter under snow
Degraded now, brings new life
Nurture the ground, replenishing
Restoring natures balance to the soil
For new life to spring as the seasons forge ahead
The summer showers to moisten and some
The thirsts of long sun-soaked days
Restoring, verdant and texture as fronds unfurl
To sway in autumnal breezes, as earth cools
Damp in the air denotes the coming fall
Mists lay on meadows as nights draw in
Finally the green fades, dried and darker
Winter wind flurries and rustles the tendrils
All visible growth now returning to earth
Yet as the winter rages, snow and ice
Below the soil the fern she waits, patiently
Until the sun once more penetrates the soil in spring.
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