Long Whippoorwills Poems

“Let my heart be still a moment and let this mystery explore”  
                     ...

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I believed in fitness and healthy living, including obtaining sufficient sleep,
To revel for years in buttery sunshine, which makes emerald willows weep.

I consumed only healthier foods, including plenty of fruits and vegetables,
As the glassy, black...

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Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,

before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build...

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In my world there is a perfect love.
In my world there is a perpetual sun.

Come to me.

Look for the incandescent moon,
blossoming into full radiance,
casting sheen to the sky of night.
Smell the delectable pungency of cedar,
canopying...

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Standing in the ankle high emerald green grass of my 
great-aunts property barefoot, hearing the creak of wood
on steel.
My daughter and husband are in the house napping, dreaming tenderly about sweet things. 

Creak, crick, creak,...

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Our riverbank launch at dawn
where dense forest chills the breeze,
where cottonwood leaves flutter like wings,
and weeping willow penumbras tease.

Glistening, rippling turquoise water churns.
Crystal swirling pools symphonic and aglow,
elliptic aluminum crafts coast over craggy stones, 
riverbed...

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Growing up in Podunk Missouri,
meant that we had the freedom to roam.
Up and down rivers and wooded hills,
those places that we called home.

Picked berries, peaches, plums, and cherries,
and at least the ones that didn’t fill...

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Once a peaceful quiet land, it's really more than I can stand.         They took the 
animals from the ark, all to turn their homes into an industrial...

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I can't desire the ones I love and love ones I desire,
our calluses too young, too old, to long withstand the fire
that draws us all like moths to flames that sparkle in scant dew
of each...

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Memories of childhood.



I weep hidden among the shadows of my stained glass window.
I long for the scent of magnolis when the wind blows.
Sunrise over plantations casting shadows,
under the old oak trees,
with dangling moss, as the...

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We loaded up for a Sunday drive
The Ozark Mountains were alive
Wild dogwoods of pink and white
Every shade of green in sight
Blooming jonquils and daffodils
Woodpeckers, blue jays, and whippoorwills
Even though the painting was unfinished
Nature's bounty was...

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An accident of history,
a coincidence,
I wonder,
EurAsia's Nightingale
sings toward newborn dawns of life
hope
faith,
while New Western Hemisphere's Eastern Whippoorwill
sends a darker through SouthWestern chill
warning of dualdark's bodily demise.

These two,
Nightingales with transatlantic Whippoorwills
continue singing through our outdoor dreams
of...

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Thirty years ago, multi-floral rose and 
fruit laden wild berry bushes could be
found in abundance everywhere around here. 
Native grasses provided shelter
to the ground nesters and the 
warm summer nights were filled
with the call of...

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A dream

To hear the whippoorwills' sad urgent  call
I was very glad when I was a lad
But now twilight nearing new season's fall
My Essence of truth my consciousness calls

My tears being not of my former...

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I sing to the sun in a sky of blue
And dream in the clouds painting pictures of you
My heart starts to soar like rainbows above
My one and only love

I dance with the moon in the...

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In The Air Tonight

Lovers looking longing
with loves light in their eyes.
Stars all glimmer softly
lighting up the skies.

Whippoorwills all whistle
here comes the morning dew.
Watching from the treetops
as lovers dreams come true.

Happy hearts are holding
onto lovers hands...

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There is no greater mystery to me than the whippoorwill
He stops at my home each April and September - never late -
On his way to North or South to who - knows - where and...

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Cherry paddle you carved a few years ago.
Short portages in with good trail, except for
One boggy bit to breed mosquitoes.
Mosquito repellent for said boggy bit.
No motorboats after first portage.
Fair wind and clear sky, except for
One...

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I remember those lazy days of summer
when we rode away on horseback
down dusty, deserted country roads;
took our shoes and socks off;
neared the trail to the river;
walked so free and easy;
gouging out that red Alabama loam
with...

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.                        THE BIRTH OF SPRING


       ...

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Beneath a lovers’ moon, Summer breezes in.
In still-cool primrose evenings lingering from spring,
she whispers in my ear.
I hear. . .
honey bees near lilacs, whippoorwills in leafy trees,
and somewhere. . . 
A hoot owl in the...

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Back in those early precocious days
I walked gingerly in the woods
Down in the south where I found out
Life’s beautiful, bad and good.

Out in the cypress and sycamores
Treading in the tall tall grass
Where wild deer ran...

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Furiously blushing Sumac, 
blended with  yellow leafed maple
adorned with now naked vines.
Subdued in evening shadows falling,
the sound of whippoorwills calling
intoxicating the mind.
Fall’s lasting impression
speaks of higher design.

The small critters getting fatter,
looking for a warm...

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The forest awaited, with its evening sigh
   the woods awakened in its sun-dripped dews,
   the larks and whippoorwills sing the song
   the Ancient's fore-told:

Yesterday has passed, tomorrow is yet...

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Beauty Calls



Soaring on the melody of a meadow lark
Bathing in a whippoorwills love sonnet
Slumbering to the soothing coo of doves
Under my nightlight made from the stars

Cool is the night, safe is my bed
In the hands...

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