sky the color of marmalade jam
orange rind dawn
bitter and sweet
Waking in a landscape of dreams-
boats tethered to the sky
and waters wandering into deep green woods –
pools of light reflecting in the trees.
Bright reflections of the waters surface-
spark across my bedroom,
gilding the lavender sheets
and the pale silver walls
with its watery light.
Rising water laps onto the woods edge,
spilling its deep river secrets
into the rocky ground.
Bits of debris,
detritus of felled timber,
flotsam and jetsam
of the rocky ridge,
float on the coves surface.
The give and take of high water.
The give and take
I don’t believe
the tiniest petal
still retains a flaw-
the tracks of sun and rain.
longing for completeness,
of perfect simplicity.
The meadow in late spring
filled with bright white daisies,
lavender sweet peas
pale pink honeysuckle-
a confluence of imperfect
The months spilled, rushing down to summer
with the rain,
last falling in the dark morning,
now the clear blue of a perfect afternoon sky
How can it be that things end without thought,
just tossed as carelessly
as petals in the warm breeze?
Will you remember this May?
The May of thunder and consequences
when all that could have been
was carelessly left to wash away
in the cold night rain.
The sun is shining now
and June is already here,
just waiting in the edge of the wood,
tiptoeing across the runoff
of the hard May rains.
Mists envelope the dark roads
across the Ozarks ridge tonight,
where the moisture hangs heavy in the treetops.
We open the windows to the thick rain drenched air-
our cotton sheets feel damp
the scent of mists and clouds fill the room.
Sounds carry across the water on nights like this,
snatches of laughter and song,
distant galaxies beyond the cove.
lulled into slumber by the sounds of night
and the lullabies of rain
and small trilling frogs.