in my dreams ~


, , ,


(and when the stars align)
I will find you
between the hour
I dreamed
to lie awake
folded into cotton sheets
(the ghost of evergreen)
wearing out
my very best perfume
(make of me
your always)
might you my hero be
given time
eternities as one
(and still) I wander
wrapped in yesterday
(you’ve become
quite famous
in my) dreams

hymnal of feathers ~


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


and I wonder
to places unknown
forgotten the weeds –
my way back to home
a secret
by lovers and thieves
echoed by crickets
touching knees
a hymnal
of feathers
as light through the pines
souvenirs left by
the rain
where was I going
who waits the dawn
with promise
of heaven
to love me

Author’s Note: I love the woods and I love the shore. A couple of years back, while sitting on my porch, I closed my eyes and raised my face to the sun. But the breeze, he told me something more. In that moment, I noticed the song that is the fluttering of leaves. It is the same as the waves on the shore. I wonder who knew it first, but wonder not at the love that allowed them to share it.

how tender
these blessings of
sapphire and pearl
oceans singing
of leaves

. . .

of everything ~


, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


he said
there’ll be another day
to wonder where you are
and just how far
from leaving me returned
when made your way
from here we stood
near and I your breath
a place between the living
you are missed
with rhyme
the same
as evermore
hurt beneath the heal
poems took my heart
to write them down

she said
but for a moment
eternity is proof
of all you said would be
before we were
counting steps
from yesterday
round and through my soul
one more pen
one more willing page
write my name
in cursive
letters fit with yours
lean into the silence
I’ve become
the memory of
we thought we knew before

the memory
of everything
you love

. . .

proof of home ~


, , , , , , , , , , ,

for every same
another was
unlike of all I’ve known
kept with me
a map of ancient roads
made of places
some have seen
few would recognize
whispered soft
the name of every star
spinning time
as ringlets
round your finger –
let me fall
into the place
where once you were
and I the proof
of home

. . .

sometimes the morning ~


kept apart
another moon
and thirteen setting suns
bladeless shades
where winter
her soul

of remember me
how it is
you can’t
recall a time of one
was all we were

at last
is waking here
sometimes the morning
with fairytales
ten thousand paper songs
held aloft by destinies
meant for us
one day

snow was not
the first
of tears we gave

. . .

buttons ~


, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


was it for this
a silence surrendered
– nights
when I can’t buy a dream
mornings find me
out on the porch
rocking alone –
eyes facing north
fussing with buttons
and cursing
sometimes –
to wonder
(and how I must do that
a lot)
haunted by traces
places untouched
fingers burnt
by beginning

. . .


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