My Shallow Sleep

Shall he remain fallen cold, buried here?
The various pains of living follow him.
And waking up to a grey sky so clear,
A midday light beyond the moon grows dim.
They were followed here, this is nothing new.
They know better than this untrodden path.
Before them, those that followed, they were few,
Fewer still who returned. Dim: this light past.
After they will break as water on rock,
They will scatter as shadows in the light.
Here the new headstones do nothing to block.
Various pains drive residents to flight.
I’ll dream of things unspoken, rest undone,
In my shallow sleep gift under the sun.

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Birdhouse

A house of dust and feathers flown,
In an unforgiving wind, too long alone.
A murder of crows jealously guard what they cannot have,
A flock of sparrows, to better fields, fly at long last.
Its weathered wood does not look above to the pale blue sky,
Indifferent clouds do not look down as they float by.
If we ask, these walls might tell of tales past long ago.
A voice on the wind then whispers: “We may never know.”

Thanks to my friend Carole D. For permission to use her photo.

Another Day

Woke up to the sun,

Like any other morning.

At the same time, not.

She Contemplates


She is the watchful in the dusk,
While we’re the waiting.
She stands in the forest dark,
While we’re preparing.
A friend of the ravens and the leaves,
Of melting snow and fallen trees.
Patiently we wait for her to awaken the bees.
Sleeping winter wakes
Springs fluttering eyes, their first look take.
And we the waiting
Gather the first flowers her bees pollenate.
While she, watchful,
Of where to send her first rain,
She contemplates.

From This Grave

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…and from this grave a flower grows
A little part of what’s lost shows
Then one tear from these eyes flow
At the sight of a flower that grows.

Waiting for the Snow

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Follow me into the light
The sun would lend you anyway.
“Tomorrow’s gone, now have no fright.”
The foggy morning says.
Were I to ask you what the night
And moon and stars would say,
Do not answer if you do not know
I musn’t know today.

Continue on the path with me
And soon I will show
What you’ve been waiting for,
But you must wait until the flowers grow.
Spring to summer, summer to fall
Follow me and we’ll go
With our questions, searching for answers
While we wait for winters snow.

They Expire

A reflection,
A form on the water
They no longer know.
It is capable of anything.
They say the flotsam is in the way,
The reflection is distorted,
By a shimmer on the surface.
On the shore they’ll find no purpose,
One must jump in.
Waiting for the image to become still and clear,
They expire.
Never realizing the image was a reflection of who they were before.