I fall into nubla cloud
my soul, its song too small for sky
my lungs gasp fog-rich air
diablo occlusions on my lips
my O slips from its mark
at cloud's cumulus
an altocumulonimbus skims my skin
my footfall spirals
a clout in updraft
sky on sky
my U falls
into all that stays aloft—
all thit wos
thut wyll as
virga drofts
=======
evening’s quiet breath~
a single gull skims the tide
day loosens its hold
Pink fringed lotus,
stunning leaf floater,
suffusing pond surface,
beneath sapphire sky,
in stoic city pond,
charming capture,
casual strollers peep,
as vim skims,
reflection of visages,
luscious liquid stream,
fluid canvas,
water in atmosphere.
or pool intensifies,
navy blue welkin,
august morning shift,
in shade or tint,
hue’d reservoir,
sapphire firmament,
a momentary pause,
for zestful urbanite,
bowl-shape flora,
or vapored vault,
coalescing influence,
bridging distance,
town dynamism,
lush environment,
bosom buddy treaty
swallow skims the lake
fish floats below its surface ~
eyeing the same flies
Dawn on spider silk—
A wren's wing brushes one strand,
pearls get rearranged—
web keeps its geometry,
only the dewdrops have gone.
Sea mists on a pane.
A beam of sunlight sneaks through
opening the view
The room fills with fresh insight
the glass was never quite touched.
Moonlight falls on pond.
A reed bends and flits a leaf
from the water's skin.
The stars' reflections remain
unruffled by the ripples.
A loose silver hair
caught upon a jacket sleeve—
deft fingers pause, then
borrow it for half a breath
before the mind can claim it.
A word almost said.
Hangs sharp between two old friends.
A teacup is poured.
steam skims anger flecks aside,
while a spoon stirs the tea leaves.
Mother's soft fingers.
Lift a lash from a boy's cheek—
he never looks up.
A small kindness passes by
unnoticed by either eye.
Sat by the bedside.
She loosens his wedding ring
twists it part aside.
The pale band beneath remains—
pale skin bands outlast the gold.
When last light thins out,
even the gentlest touch fails
to lift what's worn thin—
Outside, moonlight skims the roof;
bounces, flits, and flies away.
If you cannot read my silence,
my words will not open to you,
If the wind skims the sea
and never descends
to the churning below,
it will not know the ocean.
If you cannot feel my silence,
you cannot fathom my mind.
I cannot give it voice.
For Even mist holds a hidden hymn,
waiting for the morning light
to wake the world into song.
Geese arrive or go,
nowhere becomes a somewhere.
Straight lines crisscross the sky.
A history of headless contrails
are trekking over
a borderless yonder.
Under
a brightly birthed daylight
eyesight cannot settle,
but skims around
the unseen tips of fleeting wings.
Peddle bikes
with their hunched riders
whoosh past.
A streetlamp speedwalks
from one glazed eye to another
blurring a roadmap
in a plodding mind.
Whichever way I go
the sky gets there before me
ever ready to redraw
that which has
just now
occurred.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A gull's shadow skims the salt-wet dock
where driftwood whispers to the tide:
Peace is the pause between two waves
that never break but swell and sigh.
Love is the bruise on a stranger's apple,
offered freely when the market stalls.
Understanding? The cracked church bell
that rings for weddings and for funerals.
Mercy is the rain that falls
on both the grave and the dandelion.
Time skims on smooth sails,
hold the voyage as lungs draw fresh breath,
Let the kettle whistle on the stove—
Rekindle the fire with renewed fuel.
Age may fade the skin’s soft glow,
And sages are mocked by age’s rage,
When meat turns to bone for toothless mouths,
And joints go hunting for needed relief.
But that can’t halt the dart on life’s track;
Shun not the fun that’s disguised in veils,
Caged by age upon a covered stage—
Be that actor that rewrites the play.
If balloons defy your winds,
Puff your cheeks like air in a sail.
For joy often comes in altered costumes,
So dress to fit its fabric hues.
When songs are played in ruffled rhythms,
Suit your dance and shuffle to new tunes.
Invent the lyric that joy forgot,
And sing the song that fits your feet.
Fill your calendar with dates, not years;
Years recall what time has robbed.
For life can still bloom at twilight—
Forget the dawn that’s long gone.
Gentle lapping waters
roll sequentially onto shore,
like tiny crystals sparks, highlighted by the shining sun.
Blackened tree stumps
stand
like soldiers on watch.
A pelican,
skims the surface of the lake,
in search of tasty morsels lurking beneath murky waters.
The lazy dog basking in the sun
lifts an eyelid;
Undisturbed,
he resumes his peaceful nap.
Camp fires send spiralling smoke puffs upwards,
carried away with the wind,
followed by another smoke signal.
The sandy banks,
with mounds of trodden turrets lay in wait,
for creatures on dusk patrol
seeking nightly nourishment.
The setting sun slowly sinks,
sending sliver shimmers across the lake.
Again, nightfall descends.
Another day closes.
A crescent moon dangles in the distance,
whilst meteors jet across Prussian blue heavens,
leaving trails of grey ash in their wake.
An abnormal, elongated silence creeps through threadbare trees,
as an imperceptible breeze skims past my hair,
causing, for just a second, déjà vu—
a flutter between my muffled heart and a crushing ribcage
jolts me back.
Never-ending, frayed nerves keep me on edge;
the taste of insufferable copper taints my tongue.
Spitting it out—only for it to return,
haunting me like your last words,
replicating, repeating nightmares,
eating into my wailing brain.
That night: the broken glass,
shattered mirrors, overturned tables,
blood-sheathed floors—
became our point of no return.
Dragonflies
What are dragon flies?
Something colorful flying by.
A small critter that skims across the water.
Maybe just a messenger?
A positive symbol.
A way to keep life simple.
Transformation into the new.
A spiritual change in pursuit.
Rebirth of new beginnings.
Fly as far as you can see.
Don’t hold anything back.
An echo in black.
Traveling with wisdom.
Passing through into a new realm.
A soul not forgotten.
Remember the good times are never lost.
A critter flying free.
Be whoever you want to be.
Lightning fast in the night.
Colorful shades in the sky
Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Nature always wears the colors of the spirit."
Star-speckled galaxies nestled in indigo stratospheres transform
Into a plethora of pastel hues, painting the canva of a breaking dawn.
Strokes of salmon and peach stretch across the heavens,
Whilst the slumbering cosmos begins to awaken.
Shimmering dewdrops collect like pristine pools within velvety buttercups,
Nourishing amber and ebony bumblebees.
The birdsong of magpies calls you to embrace new day's hope.
Pulling back chiffon-cream curtains,
Rays of sunlight reflect off ocean-blue irises.
Breathing in the miracle of life's warmth,
Pearlized wings of hummingbirds flutter to the rhythm of your swaying heart,
As a balmy breeze skims past fields of lavender—
Delicately dancing in an amethyst ballet.
sunlight skims the stream
buttercups like gold
c o n f e t t i
f
a
l
l
from heaven’s hand
Geese arrive or go,
nowhere becomes a somewhere,
straight lines crisscross the sky,
a history of headless contrails
the undetectable are trekking over
a borderless yonder.
Under
a brightly birthed daylight
eyesight cannot settle,
but skims around
the unseen tips of fleeting wings.
A peddle bike
with its hunched rider
whoosh past.
A streetlamp speedwalks
from one glazed eye to another
blurring a roadmap
in a plodding mind.
Whichever way I go
the sky gets there before me
ever ready to redraw
that which has
just now occurred.
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