Webs of spiders line the path
dew diamonds sparkling from their trap
and rainbow hues.
A scent of melancholy fills the air
while bittersweet fear and fascination
web my soul.

Standing here
between the rapture and reality
there is a sense of longing
for opportunities flown,
for strands of hope
that hang from dying leaves
but in this autumn awe
where rapture comrades dying
the dreams that greened summer trees
and flowered spring fields with wonder
blaze in tribute
to their final harmony.

eyes closed
facing west
feeling the wind
whispering sonnets 
on my face
and the sun
releasing its light
to another shore,
I long for nothing
except for time
to linger long enough
for the world of life
and light 
to finish the song they sing
through my being

rushes responding
to the wand 
the wind
lifts
as its voice
seeking their raspy 
refrain

seagulls echoing 
the delicate cry
of pain and remorse
they learn from 
within me

the tide
baptizing my feet
with the froth 
of birth

let me draw
from the harmony
of pastel wings
and bronze infernos 
the spectrum
of bold and beautiful,
chorusing

let me
for a spell…

when day stills,
ready to respect 
the right of night,
when big birds 
homeward bound
measure a gray sky

I
on my stump
tuned
ruminating
watching max wobble his way
through the green meadow 

ah, how much alike we are
no matter the battles fought
nor the abuse
endured
as a pup
the testimony 
of the value of our being
rides proudly
on the wounds we lick
and the scars 
we share without shame

love is not something
we analyze
it is a bond
unbreakable

witnessed by all things
beautiful

frosty nights
foggy days
obscuring the lights
of heaven

there was a time
when December days
were crisp with snow
stars 
jeweled the meadows
of earth
and heaven

things were clearer then
no dark shadows
lurking through
the gray pall

once
I was master 
of my fields and forests
big birds flew north
to future skies

now I savor 
morsels of memories
haunting 
the fog

in that space we know
as afterglow
pastel praises
ripple the soft shadows
where words adorn themselves in hues 
leftover
from burnished passions 
brass and gold
and feel no need to utter
images they fondle

the thought
the instant memory
eternal
ebbs and flows
the purple seas
like wine
forever old
forever new
from you

of a thousand eons
white with 
ephemeral glory
shadows gray
and shifting
give you definition
frost sparkles 
your face
like the beard 
of an ancient
wizard

from you
I embrace my meaning
my left hand 
holds your rivers
wild and free
my right 
melds into your
rugged mountains
and in between
my arms embrace
moonlit meadows
swooning 
with the hues
of delicate
bouquets

when meadowlark

begins his song
I know the day
is almost gone
and sun will glow
before it drops to nest

and as I face the west
eyes closed 
to feel the beauty
spread before me

the song
the sun
the sight
blind-eyed before me
in repartee 
of things 
almost
to slight to mention
uplift my face
and fill my lungs
with 
benediction sighs

once I settle the score
with father time
redeem the days
I pissed away
by suffering jabs
and pokes 
and needles and knives
perhaps
I then can say
oh Lord
please stay the blade
of the hoary old goat
silver my tongue
with ambrosia sweet
and let me meet
some sandy haired diva
overflowing
with the song of love

I’ll wine her
and dine her
til she can’t hold out
and I’ll pray
please God
let my heart be stout
and help me remember
what it’s all about
‘cause Lord
I really don’t wanna 
strike out
the last time 
swingin’
my bat

rolling in thunder
body baptized
with the sweet smell
of grass
music from somewhere
sometime
some memory
mimicking reality

snake lightening 
ripping the sky
like thoughts to gallant
to be contained

hail
hard
and a thousand
silver
rivulets
webbing
the pebbles
and stone…

maybe
there is a softness
in this omnipotence
seldom seen
by those who focus
on the fury

whatever the case
I adore 
the smell
of sweet grass
and spring storms

flakes 
falling
so fast
they turned to rain
before they hit 
the ground

and I stood shivering
beneath an eave
somewhere 
between
joy
and sorrow
longing for a world
white with purity
sparkling the frozen jewel’s
ephemeral 
as glee
head bowed
shamed that weeping
left the winter grass
seeping
a deluge
of
in betweens

five years ago
the long gray line
of sentinels
conjoined by rusty wire
stood straight

moss crowned
home for windblown seed
sprouting tiny forests
of growth
whose names crouch
in the folds 
of yellow books
timid
four-eyed scholars
seek

now
they lean
deer step through
their sagging
sentry
wildflowers spill over
the barbs
like bouquets from 
insidious lovers

when we grow old
our pride and passion
covet the flitting 
of chickadee and nuthatch
pausing momentarily 
to perch and survey
the seeded soil

our mind tunes
to the wind-flapped planks
content to cling
to the gray
bowed barn 
until some sudden storm
loosens their grip
and 
flops them 
to earth

on good days
when the elements behave
wind whispers warble
unutterable secrets

mornings blanch
beneath a white moon
laced in purity

words form
then disappear
ashamed 
of their inadequacy 

the delicate frost
melts
and passes away
like love sonnets
inscribed 
on a tear’s reflection

silver 
splits the night
with memories
jaded crosses we learned
to bear

the moon weeps
misty tears
that fade to ebony
recalling a love
beguiled by hollow
yearnings
burnt out before
it began

it is a need
frail mortals
wrap around themselves
tattered as a beggar’s cloak
blinded by that age old melody
forever love

and so as ebony
consumes desire
Perfidy 
licks her lips

speak softly my love
the night bird sings
upon the bough
our oasis shimmers
beneath a desert moon
full fragranced
with the dreams
winds of wonders
whisper from the sands
of moonlit night’s
naked
with passion

breathe our love
into each other
love
lips moist
from the fondling
of tongues 

our urgency is one
melding with the heat
of suns
bathing forbidden phantasies
into flesh

we mock the rule
of time
we scoff
at circumstance

I love
to walk
where the air is fresh
and full of singing

I love
to send my mind
meandering
through earth’s 
highlights 
and shadows

among
bouquets of buttercups
and pink crowned dogwood

where meadows veil 
in hazy blue chiffon
and mountains 
illustrate 
the rim of earth
with rugged fortitude

I love 
to walk with friends
I’ve never seen
where words 
are images
whispered
on a boundless breeze

wraps its warmth
around me
gathered 
from the heat of day

melancholy vibrations
surf
through my blood
sweet
as the memory
of pain suffered
long ago

ah yes
the pain
of the past
is sweet
embellished
with riffs of fantasy
floating across
a filigreed sky
soon to bath itself
in pastel promises
that linger
long after 
burnished bronze
and scarlet
blaze

evening is a time 
of quiet worship
melancholy memories
whispering
to the night

time and times ago
was it here
or in some other world
conceived
in the dreams of lovers
born to idolize the sighs
wisped from their 
still warm trysting place

nest of the Gods
nest of virgin dreams
nest of flaming passions
forever yearning to touch
the fingertips of time