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Poem – Machines That Move Earth
(1) Putting aside hollywood notions of machine versus man – September morning is hidden in fog, coated with an early frost. Subdued sun scattered across fields, meadows, and prairies. The sky becomes the land becomes the horizon. We head north, leaving behind city lights and traffic for pine trees and winter in the air. (2)…
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Poem – I Touched the Sun
The other morning I touched the sun newly risen each ray spread into the valley creates the shadows that move. It did not burn, my skin did not singe, I touched the sun.
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Poem – Morning Light
There is the perfect moment – birds sing, the wind circles the body, dogs lay and sniff the air, ravens and ducks land on rooftops and trees, prairie grass crackles – when burdens fall away with no effort. Briefly what followed leaves – I become aware of this too quickly and everything tumbles back but…
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Poem – Morning purple sky
Morning purple sky becomes a thick icy fog consuming the landscape until the only path, the only way forward is through the white veil with eyes closed and the future in my hands.
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Summer, morning walk
An early morning walk in the calm and cool air. Before the paths and sand become too hot, there is a peace holding each grain, each branch, and each creature that stirs. Shadows leap from treetops to limbs. The lake is flat and hugs the shoreline closely. The sun wavers in the canopy as a…
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Early Summer Morning
As a thunderstorm approaches from the west, I listen to various bird calls such as the robin and oriole. As more lightning flashes across rooftops, and the thunder becomes more immediate, their calls quiet. Soon, the soundscape is replaced by heavy raindrops blanketing streets, patios, and window screens with water. Further plunged into the storm,…
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Sunday Morning
Before the heat and severe storms rumble in this afternoon A robin is perched atop the wireless internet receiver A grey squirrel flaunts his semi-bushy tail The umbrella’s shadow shortens The same palette was used to paint the sky this blue.