An August Night Sky

Watched by stars,
we lay reposed
upon the summer sod

with quiet breeze,
and clouds that grew,
a planet for a prod.

Now and then
a truck passed by,
unheard above our thoughts.

We lounged—absorbed,
pulled up, pressed down—
upon our star flight mats.

…The breeze touched
our toes.  An owl
consulted with the moon…

We pondered
our significance—
our breath and yawn—a while.

You thought aloud,
Is smallness good?
I nodded at your smile.

Specks of sand
burned blue and white.
They fit our bones with awe.

And I revived
a boy who played
in culvert holes, with frogs.

The Rising Of The Lake

Early morning, the lake is rising.
A shroud of mists veils
sullen surface tensions
and conceals murky passions.

A cold and weary night withdraws
from the slight granite moon
hung high, despite approaching dawn.
The hunkered sun, provoked and taunted,
once again confronts the darkness;
languid vapors, daunted, turn to run.

A forlorn host winks shyly
and nods to the yellow spy
now preparing to reveal
blue bright sky.

Generous, drab, the lake donates
an evolving portrait:
The Triumphant Return
(of wind and light, cloud and song).
Strains of “No Night There” are ringing
twixt the glints and ruffles of the offered painting.

Dickinsonbird

…not a creature failed–
No Blossom stayed away…
~Emily Dickinson

Mockingbird, where do you begin?
What deep source feeds your spring?
No matter,
I will listen—
Flawless chirps and whistles.
You, a feathered prophet,
a truth-teller;
I, beguiled and beguiler.
Do you have a word for me?
Please allow me this:
Your name does not befit.
To scorn or imitate is not your wish.
How about Dickinsonbird?…

So great is your reward.
Fly to a high branch.
Your drab plumes lift my head.
Though I am a little hurt,
I cannot deny you are fine.
You glance at me and I stare,
surprised by each pensive, lofty line.
Then, wiser,
I once more spread my wings
against the counsel sky.
I do believe.
It’s with my given voice
I will finally be content.

Beautiful Girl

Beautiful girl, you draw me.
I anticipate. My eyes gaze, like
On a starlit night—they
Rise to your skies and remain.

Though I am sometimes stuck
In the city you still appear, still
Come through. I look for you.
You are more than mere light.

So take me tonight, take me
To that country place. Go with
Me to that dark freedom and
Give me your full glory. Let us

Lie close.  Bring a kiss. Capture
Me with your bright face.
The stars are at the window;
They are drawn by our embrace.

The Departure

She toddles over and
sits where the cat
waits to be loudly
greeted.
As if in a picture,

she places herself
exactly; to be perfect
as I kiss her
honey head, as I say
bye bye.

I have to leave her.
She sends me to
collect fresh air, to
gather abundant
blue sky.  From

down there I reign
in her as a king;
I turn in her
like the door—slowly,
slowly on its hinges.

I depart, and she
rises to remember
a tower that bowed
with breath
and prickly beard.