old plaza darkness
phantasms of long dead feasts
the fog of streetlamps
The winds reaps our crops
Harvesters with no mercy
Like life taking flight
storm-streaked evening
clouds forming in a gray sky
thunder playing drums
Life's gotten so dull,
just want to run, breathe real air,
in the nature's breeze
A cold day in March
when I though spring had arrived
snow and cold came back
chilling at sunrise
the sight of frost on sere leaves
the warmth of blankets
petals fall from stalks,
gypsies lose their virgin souls
in cold, snow bathed streets
Birds sing lullaby
As snow falls gently on tree
Moonshadows appear
snow owl, talons low,
white wings wide, all intention
on need, never want
Sunlight and spring rain
Fertilize the ground below...
Green is their offspring
a chill winter wind
the broken shutter voicing
a strong objection
Mountains of white clouds
painted by shadow and sun
Grand, but light as air
Demons wailing loud
while riding the dark blown cloud
...a storm is brewing
Swimming in cold fog
winter's enchantment in me
through this forest's life
Whispers in the rain
descending towards black asphalt
masking endless night
Lightning cackles here
Blue sparks jump from heavy clouds
Rain soaks a white rose.
Snow is falling down,
the whole valley is covered
in a pure white gown.
Bolts of lightning flash
Celebration in the sky
Playing hide and seek
Wind whispers soft words
Stealing leaves off the branches
Autumnal signal
cold hands grip tightly
soft ice under dirty snow
crocuses peek through
the west wind catches
a grasshopper's final leap
car wheels lack remorse
Looking to the sky
In search of shapes and meanings -
In clouds, in our lives.
painting the old barn
we sit out a thunderstorm
the brush with lightning
the hurricane ends
those loud wind chimes from next door
still in our front yard
clouds gather above
rain fills our picnic baskets
we go home hungry
curtains inhale and
exhale as storm approaches
a street light goes out
rain hits hot pavement?
senses flood with memories?
scent of summer reigns
The winds blow gently
As the stalks sway side to side
Aching for the pick
Burning hot breezes
scorch the desolate valleys.
A bulldog panting
Lightning in the dark.
The mating call of insects
beneath distant stars.
What I treasure is
Seeing the snow remove all
That I once treasured
Humid summer night,
lying in a bed of sweat,
unable to sleep.
Wet whys in the mud
Left by tiniest of birds
Washed away by rain
Hellish humid heat
In three months we'll wear jackets
Seems impossible
Rain over snow: God
holds in armor eight pine trees
straight above my house.
like spirit islands
fog floats the sea around me
vaporous but real