Five Years Ensconced

Dusted rose tenderly traps tectonic
plates borne of Her arousal,
near breakfast time the sentinel sleeps silently missing
breath languishing from parted lips
lingering longingly,
two Magpies maneuver molasses skies
framing the Alaskan Range.

Sea shale succumbs to titan tidewaters
tantalizing toes.
Sentinels watch here, hovering, waiting, immortal to all but wind,
water and time. Dying like us
eventually. We live though through time, traveling tempestuously
toward that which we seek. Sometimes found,
sometimes not.

Beholding the bruin bounding beyond bowers,
fear rushes silently inside, moments hang immortal,
Turning, turning, turning.
Lichen weeps anxiously atop the dome the bruin roams.
Hearts hearken to one another—we both fear.
Away, away, away!
Boyish bellow because, I breathe.

Black pearls gleam through me, mid-morn sun stolen by looking glasses,
entrancing, the muse reminds, she demands attention.
Warming to allow the Copper’s rage, always coming--
Coming, always coming, break-up brings boons but too slovenly,
so I wait withering, wonderful, wistful. Wanderlust wakes
like the sunlight always coming,
always waiting.

Red Robin

Thoughts of robin red
landing deftly upon rubble,
rumbling rotors and greeting wings
fluttering hearts awaken.

Mothers watch black bags
stuffed, zipped, and tagged.
Packaged in parking lot rows.
Sons and Daughters from
backyards, barns, and bowery.

Yet they arrive, robin
Red-breast bathing in
first washes of sunlight
that Awakens Springtide
blades. I cleanse my duka.

This place− my past,
my present, my future.
Hiding pastel eggs, peeps,
kites, and some coin
for the children to find.

Springtide beckons forthwith,
holy, spirits, shamans, and witches
collide. Awakened. Coexist− women
and men, farm-boy and homey,
we must hang together: or hang.

The King and His Court
loft tridents with arbalests;
Do they see the dead
like Moms do? Through
corn stained fingers.

The garage stands
decades wise, rough-cut
lumber that grandfather
strung. I wonder when he
accepted the world's wrath?