A Cold Spring Dawn

Early spring's raw embrace,
images in cold wet drops,
speaking to where I've been,
and those I've seen -
lives tarnished
in grief's long gaze.
At dawn in blue light
I am awake another night.

Machine Talk

Machines still can not comprehend poets. I pressed the wrong button on my iPhone and had a wonderfully hilarious conversation.

iPhone: What can I help you with?

Poet: In raw wind scraped tundra, the snow spring sneers....relentless ice fire pouring across hell.

IPhone: I eschew theological disquisition.

A Pack of Two

Where I go

Whitey dashes

through the brush.

Hairy four pawed

laughter barks and jumps.

We roll down the hill.

Bobbing up and down

through tall grasses

she charges, grabs my foot.

I'm a toy, a friend.

I wrench free.

Fun touched

in sun washed fields,

we run furry, barking,

howling, yelping,

laughing we play.

Namaste

If in giving grace

we gave our tender love,

each from our own nobility

just because we live,

how would it be? Namaste.

Note: Namaste means "I bow reverently to you."

The Maze

Walking a maze, one hand trembling
holding a cup. Strangers speak.
He looks up. Hesitating, slowly,
forming words without meaning.
Bewildered eyes stare back.
A life lost - the secrets he keeps!

forest floor

on the forest floor
in tranquil moments we meet
friends picking mushrooms

evolution's dance

evolution's dance
spring peepers sing with bullfrogs
at night magic lives