June Will Be Okay

Deciding this morning whether
To be afraid for our weather

For this Earth
For its Underlings

I noticed triumph
Its and Theirs

I saw green, cold tears
Gladness!

There was little left to do
Open wide the window

Cry out
Three cheers for a cold victory!

No Photos

The morning I think of giving up
Shades of moss green and orchid peaceably pull me back
As an elder, in Auto-Tune
Promising a child that dancing days lie ahead
An altogether different morning, now
That deserves
I deserve
A wholly-new and holy mind

Wild Erased

Just settle down
Tell it to your manic
Who used to threaten the world
If it harmed a hair on my head?

Just go gently
Take your wild, man
Ever contemplate the green
Would snuff it out for settled-down love?

“The Currency of Grace”

Surprised to see the a.m. sun
Afire
Shining through
The door I’d forgotten I’d opened
Left open
To remind myself I’m alive
Praise

A part of this world
Apart from this world
And out of this world, too

Anyway, first, foremost
Tending to all the green
I thought to stop, I felt ashamed
Guilt
For all I’m giv’n, undeserved
But, my friend told me the currency
Grace

Processor

It was as simple a thing as pesto
The green of it
The freshness of it
The scent, that, make no mistake,
Made me forget the difficult bridge
I’d thought to jump from
But instead crossed, then burned
On purpose
For good

Stripes

We share Little in common
The Monk and Me
Soft, furtive early risers
Though grounded, I, facing West,
Facing East, He
And dining together, I linger
Dashes, He
Little Green Space we share, we

Mormon Row

With grateful paintbrush in hand, I am leaving space for you

A beautiful a background, careful, I capture the sun

Find now open an area broad enough and close enough to the sky

That your shoulders might fit and comfortably give rest to what is

I know not the shape of you, tho’ your colors, you’ve made clear

Bright-dark weathered patina that complements my tempest greens

Vivid chards of amber to offset my mountainous blues

Your easy frame an open window, a willing respite

Fighting your way, straight to the foreground of me, for me

Withstanding, will they find us, the very wildest of climes