Summer Scroll

The beach is a summer scroll,
Recording the tears of the sea,
Welcoming its surging water,
Cradling it in each sandy crator
'Til the ocean,
Child-like,
Reclaims it.
Last summer wilted
On a September morning,
Promising with a sigh to return.
Now we are left
With footprints in the sand,
And a sea that does not understand
Where the children have gone.

Midnight

Midnight approaches,
Back arched with passion
Like an ebon cat
Curling around the mantel clock.
A dozen chimes
Quaver from the hearth,
Hot on the breath of the wind.
Midnight is its own keeper,
Setting its own sultry rules,
Guarding the door,
Allowing entrance
To whom it wills.
In the heat of the night,
Midnight is a slow boil.

Full Moon

The moon is roundly glowing,
Heaven's gift,
A luminous caress.
Ancient wishes
Meld with tomorrow's dreams
In its stolen light.
We are skyward bent,
Welcoming the new moon,
Yearning for its full-breasted song.
In its wake,
Aglow with its light,
We measure our days
By the fullness
Of its beauty.

To Learn To Dance

Gazing from the horizon's edge,
I lifted my eyes to yours
And whispered,
I am not a dancer.
You said you would teach me.
Your fingers touched me;
I felt their singe.
Your words fell
Like hail
Around my feet.
Strangely and always drawn,
Throbbing
When I needed to be still,
Whispering
When the hills demanded silence,
My heart returned
To your wellspring,
To a harp's well-honed song,
To learn to dance.

Stormy Day

The lake overflowed last Saturday
To thunder pulsing
Like a bass guitar gone mad.
It was a sopping week;
Rain like acid tears
Trickled down heaven's cheeks.
The water seeped into my veins,
And I became a stormy day.

Gettysburg

Sometimes the sky sees too much;
It hides weeping eyes,
Tears seeping from clouded lids,
Washing bloody ground
For the ten-thousandth time.

They cast mortal eyes heavenward;
Pain was not partisan.
The sky watched them die,
One by one, ten thousand times.
Unarmed, it could do nothing.

Grief encompassed Gettysburg,
So many dead,
And only sky to mourn,
Sorrows sealed forever
In a hot July wind.

No Despair

There is no despair by the sea,
When it is greenly blue,
And its swells wink at the noontime sun.
There's no room for tears.
The sea laughs at them,
Wipes them away with its foggy fingers,
And makes you whole.
It cajoles gently to hope,
Shows its tideline from last night,
Whispers, More will come.
It is faithful as the tide is strong.
There is no despair by the sea.

Spiritwheel

The breeze is laughing,
Pressing its way from the river,
Whispering among the leaves of the oak tree
In the back yard.
The spiritwheel writhes gently
In the fingers of the wind,
A favored toy.
Its beads sway in love's rhythm,
Humming a soft mountain song
Of memory and devotion
In the crisp morning air.
You are very close,
Nestled against my heart
In ways I cannot understand.
The breeze moves on,
Beads swaying in its wake.
You touch me once again;
I close my eyes
In the sweetness of your Ozark love.