Fire on the shore.
A circle of childhood friends.
Warmth of nostalgia.
My shower is next
Mother Nature washes me
Winter rain is here
Bright autumn sunlight
Ironing out morning chill
Dad lay still and cold
brisk muffled crackling
children play with Autumn leaves
red and yellow hues
Hop on my back child
Let us storm the seven seas
The sons shall boat now
caved face too grotesque
no smile to greet the children
pumpkin carved too soon
golden autumn leaves -
childhood days right behind me
with every photo
new life, my first son
your eyes mirror the heavens
spring, summer now fall
Singing glassy rains
over bitter storms and seas-
the cry of a child.
The ripe tomato
Willingly twists off the vine
Mother's burden gone
Fall softly spring rain
my grandmother's lips are dry
awaiting the bloom
Summer nostalgia;
the dull shine of beaten tin;
my mother's kitchen.
Reach into the hand
Your mother gave you at birth
Use it to reach hers
Mother grooms kitten
Caress of serenity
Reflects in her eyes
Sunscreen and sea smell
Hot sand touches little toes
Baby's first beach day
anonymity
living with no fingerprints,
no children in tow
three golden trees sway
atop the steep river bank
haunting mute children
blank foggy morning -
deep into analysis
all my childhood dreams
forget-me-nots bloom
beside pathway to lakeshore
missing my parents
white children's puffball
yellow tooth-of-the-lion
French xanthic flower
in my apple tree
the blossoms getting closer -
new baby shower
Rock thrown by a child,
The watery plop, laughter
Ripples through the air
Through children worlds bloom
The art of tatebanko
Beware, paper cuts
stately red crowned cranes
prancing in the snowy field ~
my tallest sister
wind carrying seed
sycamore helicopters ~
sister spinning wool
My father says he's
getting forgetful, pollen
against a window.
Bruising winds rush fast
Devastation in its wake
Mother natures wrath
Out of the vast marsh
plaintive grey curlew calling -
sister scolding me.
your eyes fill with tears
let me go winter daughter
to my Moon River
doves nesting. cooing.
soft white parents of new hope.
annoying creatures.
deep silence echoes
as loudly as the racket
absent children made
children roll downhill
prickles of freshly mown grass
summer sour sweetness
Gazing at the clouds
Children point out many shapes
Topics of their dreams
mother's calling me
one says, please not too far out
more says the other
gardens of roses
where children play together
the sound of blooming
crazy loving loud
people crowd my head and heart
family and friends