Warm Front

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Mere meters from me
A lone lighthouse 
Must stand -it must
The fog its job to daze me
I close my eyes and long-last see 
Standing there solitary
But tall
Sending out three calls
Hoping high
The no-longer-lost craft will yield
And find her port
What to believe in this fog

Linger Winter

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And it’s then
That I’m forced
To ask myself
Of what consequence is it to me
That winter wishes to linger
While elsewhere bares its shoulders

As I consider whether to be pained
By pinstripes wider than these 
Or the loss of the starboard side’s oar
I recall 
The daffodils that dance each morning
The strong Challenger on the horizon
The Saturday swims with a mermaid

Elsewhere, bare your shoulders

Not With Hatchets

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I am your oak tree
As I stand beside your knee
Will you speak to me
Not with hatchets in your eyes
But with birds’ nests on your mind 
And honeybees so kind
Care for my green arms
Feel my shade protect from harm

Temperament: A Haiku

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There’s nothing of you
With a sense of urgency
That is your nature

But these two wild ones
Refuse to be trained as such
They want what they want

Negotiators
They pressure me for sugar,
Playgrounds, comic books

Ozone

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While wishing wishes
And chasing sleep
On hikes to ridges
With oaths we keep 

The first promise dance
And Aft’ Party
With sand surrounding
On thrills at sea

Rememb’ring shared breaths 
While leaking tears
Just offer your hand 
All through the years

Cover Me

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Oh to be
The skin exposed 
Near cashmere coverings

Its defiant dare
Can draw the stare
And tempt the mind of things

But that which waits
Beneath the warmth
And silently bids “come”

Is the skin 
I wish to wear;
For whose dream-er I drum

Good Traveller

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I know a mantra or maybe a motto
Said in silence or sometimes aloud
Reminding what’s real and what isn’t whose

Sad at the start
The center convicting
By the end nothing’s certain except that all’s OK 

Then begins the search for the voice that sounds the same as the one that I’d warned ought be a good traveller

And it becomes clear

It’s been there for some time on errands and visits and telling it’s truths and the truth

Now what say you voice of what’s real and what’s whose and is all in truth OK?

Author Where Are You 

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Do I overdo it

You must understand that these pages give me great reason to sigh

Both for the comfort that they speak and the words of pain and fulfillment not yet written

I often talk in epic terms and I am most sincere in my belief 

That this book needs your ranting and conviction and trouble so pick up your pen