You did never plan we’d meet in California
I was never meant to see you in the Spring
As for our near-miss in Eastern Colorado
Call it fate, or God’s permit, or some damned thing
One Spring sing-song day
I took a risk
I lit a match
I set them words on fire, yeah!
Crazy wasn’t my friend then
But I’m swimmin’ in it now, boy!
It was absolutely Spring
I’d remembered what she said
How would the rodents speak
What words would they say
“Yes, you, bring berries to your back yard
And all manner of citrus and apples alike
Fresh, full with fructose, on these barren of days
We planned well for the season
The Winter in May of the Spring
Evidence our good-faith actions
Our holes in diligence dug
Where we find once again, our daily bread
While our feathered Southern friends, oh!
How they need, need, need your hand
We’ll let them dine
I don’t want to live this yet, Springtime
For, every time the birds and bees and all manner of creatures and things -good sports and bad- migrate back
There’s the media storm, the tough talk, the hype, the great expectations placed in the wrongest of wrong places
So I will close my eyes and wait, Springtime
What puts me on edge about Spring is it makes no promises and refuses all requests.
Without notice, it could choose the craze of a Summer heat.
The best case scenario -such bravery in risking my lust.
Or on a dime, it delivers a confused dose of wintry wrath.
Snow that won’t live to see the weekend, so why-for dear Spring?
But woe be to me should Spring choose a most deviant trickery:
And leave me longing in only the long shadows of a forever Fall.
To you, girl
Sister to Sister
My sole and loving admonition
If there be trust, if there be hope
It will be found in your eyes
Where they gaze
How they see
And the choosings they reflect upon
I make much of words with you
Made-up words, maybe
But your eyes, I know well
I know the Who you believed in
And still believe
In Your eyes
Within Your grasp
As the narcissi beneath the freeze
There be reason for trust and hope
There was in that dark house
A dark corner
Barricaded by a bookcase
Shelves of borrowed, unused wisdom
Visitors might only glimpse
One trying afternoon
Two deja vu’s too many
A final conversation
A one-sided determination
A voice overdue journeyed forth
And She Said
Let there be light
For She Knew
There should be light
There can be color
There in the aftermath
A dark mess
Cobwebs and chipped paint
A different bookcase revealed
She scrubbed and painted Green