Build mosaics in the sky
for our belated reunion, my girlhood and I
fallow in a house of waiting
The Meeting
What Come of Waiting
What comes of waiting
First passion aged
the taste complex. Love too
became a vintner’s drink
the bitter blissful buzz
The volunteer. The drafted men
who left and leave by choice or need
Dug trenches into graves. Their women
sowed forgotten seed
Water’s languid kiss, the rock’s demise
Flames for heat slow burned to ash
Invited guest, the late trespass stay and stay
The hole is filled. The ground left soft
as breath had been
We found them here. What comes of waiting
Mortality
She knew a man
who touched in dreams
the veil of death. Delicate
fingers of a lover. A mind
born quick to dust. How he came
to call it a waterfall
Her children, recent travelers
through the gossamer mist, tested
the surface with a stick. Wondered
if the world was strong enough
to hold them. Remembered
only that they’d wished for light
Light appeared and there was skin
to mark the boundaries of heaven.
She only knew to name it nothing. Chase
the language. Lack the word
Let the label be living
Notebook Series #2
Courage
inside the force of creation
rebuild the wings of Icarus
soar on sinews a gentle lift
through feathers on the wind
from rapacious bird to zealous explorer
against the current of history’s lessons
to reach the galaxy of gods
face the nuclear sun full knowing
someday you will fall
Lily of the Hearth
She carries exhumed memories
Gentle in the palm of her hand
The way she held wounded birds and wild flowers
Running home as a girl
Filled with wonder
Always so full
How she reached tenacious from the ground
How she found the sun and didn’t stop
Learned the truth and still said yes
Rooted to the warmth of stories in a hidden heart
Promises from lips left petals scarred
She’s cracked a bit as cells divide
A seed pressed in winter’s cold embrace
Born through summer’s sultry thighs
Find Your Story 