Monday, January 19, 2015

The Changing Sky

The sky went from blue gray to gray
not a big change really
but a subtle change

And all those footsteps poems
like clumps of soft furze
against the snow

Crows were hidden
on their branches
beneath the intermittent sun

Can you recall your childhood
when the idea of sledding
was more fun than the sledding itself

To walk along the treeline
inhaling the fresh cold air
arms open to tomorrow

That magical gray color
alive with the crunch of snow
beneath your feet

Monday, January 12, 2015

In Extremis - Winter Song

The day unfolded like a gray lily
with white petals so fragrant and tender
one could close one's eyes and listen
to the far-off keening
of the sky and trees

My organism strains to understand
to encompass and endure
like the planet
endure the weight of responsibility
the press of days upon my shoulders

I remember ironing my father's shirts
the smell of hot cotton broadcloth
the faint sweetness of the soap
the strong heat of the iron
pressing those wrinkles at the wrists and collar

I remember polishing my mother's silver
rubbing hard on the bowls
of the soup spoons
to see the burnished gleam
appear like a stepchild

I remember the feel of the piano keys
the allure of smooth ivory
the spiral sound filling my ears
with my foot on the soft pedal
and the energetic notes cascading

And I ask myself what brought me here
to this desolation
to this white-gray lily of a world
to this cold almost love-letter of a season
As I sink into the planet.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Interstell​ar traveler caught in wintry mix

The grey sky
portentious, waiting
a sense of always waiting
not anticipatory
not really
more the flatlined relief
that no more catastrophes
can happen for a moment
let alone miracles
my friend writes to me of magic
and I know it is afoot
everywhere and at all times

Yet I am encumbered
by knowledge and
the distance between
my old lover and me, as he
burrows through his tunnel
of pain and suffering
hopeful that the torches will last
the journey
I call upon my light beings
and ask them
to speed my healing to him
as in days of yore

Yore - a word not
much understood
these days
how I stood on
the small platform
between worlds
and held my hands
down toward the sick and wounded
letting the truth and power
and purity - too many words already
for something that has no translation -
sparkle down like stars
upon them

Perhaps I was a conduit
in those early days
of cooperation in
earth's affairs
And now burdened
by memories
I wonder how complicit
my bloodline is
in the later conquest
as Gaia heaves a sigh
I nestle in her bosom
and wait