Gabled Walls

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We are the In
Between
The Middle
Absorbing and reflecting back
All the inspiration they have inside

We are the Many
Around
The Gate
Herding and harnessing 
All the good they long to give

Target

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I loved that puppy
He had green glasses

Always a new, too-short beard
And too-high ears

The sass behind the glass of his eyes
Filled me with words

He’ll never know
He was framed

Dense

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Within the deep green foliage 
I see colors promising
To burst up through the day’s wreckage 
And say that all’s okay
But I’m telling you 
I tell myself
All they are 
Are liars

Charms

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Some fine day
One lucky mate
While others clutch their pints
We’ll set a spell
Watch, then walk on by 
Into the green
Arm in arm
Click our heels 
There’s your magic

green

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To lie down somewhere warm
And, but for the new moon, green
Removed from all vice and sound and care
Letting our breath fight the demons 
Pretending the other is not there
Unless it gets cold

I, Ophelia

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I long for a hamlet
That’s all I will say
I won’t ask the point on the globe

Whence its green, life springs forth
A quiet and True north 
There again I know I’ll hear my soul 

I will

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Where was that tall, small white farmhouse

In need of my repair

I imagine soon the two bedroom windows

Will be cracked open a slight bit

To let in the night’s song

To let out the day’s cares

Old orange mutt sleeping on the job

Won’t hear the creaky porch swing nudged by the breeze

But I will

I do