Anymore

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Was that photographed tree
Standing strangely tall above the tree line
An old soul of a sapling
Was he?

Were the smallest birds smart
Drawing near to his clear air up there
Beckoned by his branches -come, play!
Were they?

Will people seek solace 
Called by common-ground conscience
Hearing his cry -come up high!
I cannot ask anymore

Hand On Hip

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Think not about
The breeze blowing through
The center of you
Howling away a hollow
A something-specific shaped hole
Where resides your soul

Decide you’ve all you need
You are enough 
Standing there tough
Your own hand on your hip
Eyes surveying what you’ll prefer or let pass
How full your glass 

The Measure

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 Against what’s proper
And polished
We keep our eyes down these days
Having faith in only that we no longer have the strength
To see what isn’t there

Each day brings its journey
Down stairwells
Through thoroughfares
Around corners too dark
Up or out into the blue

Thankful for life around and within
Aren’t we
Wishing though
For stronger legs and for footsteps
Whose echo steadies hands

Gaze North

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Should the universe allow
I’d still not have the courage
To stand here next to you
And ask the winning vow
Again
Would you Boy Of Summer
Strive hard not to suffer
The fools should they surround you
And fail not to pick up pen
My friend 

 

Strong Back

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I know a Tailor
From a mystical place
A gypsy, her eyes how they flash
We talk of those men 
Those once-soulful men 
How we fell to them
Full, resolute, unabashed

Messy hearts she and I 
We examine history 
And debate on the whether at all
Those men knew their truth 
They did not we conclude 
For they flew by their mood
Yet we stand here firm in soul’s call 

This talk it’s served much
Our song it will be
We dance in the jeweled skirt of pain
The shades thrown open 
She returns to her pins
And it seems we’ll begin
To walk whole into love yet again