early risers
at the cemetery –
morning mist
***
bunches and bunches
of crocus! — I can buy
perfume anytime
***
in a moment
this bird formation too
shall merge in
blue-gray and gold of sunset
leaving the beach
with cold roaring sea again
***
Days cluttered with debris
nights muddled
by wisps of moonlight
creeping through dusty blinds
***
I am
of sun and wind
whitecaps of sea
shrieks of seabirds
a fire burning
in a restless sky
***
all that defines me babushka dolls
***
everyone
he wants to talk with
is already dead–
walking slow
through the cemetery
***
sleet shower
it’s either one thing or another
the hole in my shoe
***
slanted rain
at last i understand
the wind
***
warm bright log fire
I drift into a dream
of summer skies
***
night storm–
reading poetry
by lightning
***
midnight blues —
I still have the key
to her back door
***
winter morning
with clicks & creaks
the house stretches
***
un-inkable thoughts
I quickly stir
into my coffee
and drink into
disappearance…
***
some morning show blather plays low on the radio. i sit behind the wheel, in idle.
***
bird-like songs from another room
i can’t tell
if this is the cage
i’m meant to fly in
***
the signs were all there
they just didn’t pay attention
***
below ice clad cliffs
trackless snowfield fills the gorge
wind-shrieking, birdless
***
opening the door
and waiting
in spite of everything
***
starry nights
all the distances
we fail to traverse
***
@gennepher (Jenny)
@CoyoteSings (Roary)
Jars of Stars 