Her Elijah

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Who am I if I
Cannot command the clouds
In this
Her hour of need, and summon from them
A hopeful down pouring
A covenant flood
While she, full of sorrow
Knows, at present, only drought?

Shadowboxing

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In the evening, I sat out, well beyond 8:58

The front porch shadows shielded me 

That I might pretend

My bedtime hadn’t come and gone

The smile in my telephone-voice wasn’t masking a mom’s tortured heart 

Acceptance would come and those few miles away, would prove okay, someday

Hood ornaments on passing trucks did in no way devastate

This wasn’t the calm before the storm

The temperature wouldn’t dare drop, degree by degree, with each sip of my sleepy-time tea 

The gardens weren’t soon going to hell

My choice to survive hadn’t offended my God

Tomorrow, no one would know 

I See

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This morning, it seems, these eyes sting of defeat

“Look harder,” the stormy air asks
“See clearly the calm, the victory now, here for the weary faithful.”

It was passive perhaps, to remain on the mat
Yet, that was The Way, way back then

Voracity and patience, be purposeful now
That the challenge of hope, the determined eyes
Shall be the reward, the brass ring

Just pick up your mat
Just see

They

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To the squirrel who pilfered
To the rabbit who skulked
I stand by my poison pen

Gone be the peaches I nurtured since spring
Struck down, the sweat-sown echinacea

The day-long and long night, again and again
The witnesses to the crimes against friend

But rather than hate, abate, terminate

I give gratitudinous nod
To berry, bean, basil

And rose

See, me and my pen
Befriend, overcome

Thus, conquering peskiest pests

All Talk

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She’s talking rhythmically
Of the good in goodbye
Gets me to thinking
Of the waiting and why

Everyone around him lives
While he waits to die
Sipping all-alone punch
In a house built on lies