
was e’er
the way made dearer
for times
we stepped aside
awaiting with the shadows
for night
to fall
becoming tears
leaves
and patterns
stars we
somewhere
wished upon
another life
reflecting love
as silver
on the pond –
. . .
21 Tuesday Jun 2016
Posted in Poetry

was e’er
the way made dearer
for times
we stepped aside
awaiting with the shadows
for night
to fall
becoming tears
leaves
and patterns
stars we
somewhere
wished upon
another life
reflecting love
as silver
on the pond –
. . .
21 Tuesday Jun 2016
Posted in a time for telling, Poetry
Tags
dawn, divine, eternity, home, life, light, love, memory, remembering, storytelling, touch, truth

were there words
I couldn’t find them
tho I searched the dark
til dawn –
as gentle tears were dried
upon the lawn
a place
beside your picture
as poetry
you knew
the way to tell a story
with my name
with hands to trace
each coming back –
a kiss
was reason clear
I felt my way
across the night
to here
. . .
16 Thursday Jun 2016
Posted in Poetry

in a swirl
of fading twilight
I’ve seen
the sparrows dance –
as music
lays beneath
the evergreens –
lullaby
devoid of line
is left of words unsaid
caught within
this sacred reverie
as circles
drawn to cedar –
proof of lifetimes gone
was there I dreamed
the dream of evermore
of swells
and realms –
and canyons
of time endeared
to none –
fingers
feathers –
flight
a moment stilled
within
the fading light
. . .
14 Tuesday Jun 2016
Posted in Poetry
Tags
angels, blessings, home, knowing, life, love, memories, nature, seasons, sometimes, the ways we came, time, truth

we took turns
telling stories
(turns telling lies)
crossing our hearts
with another
sworn to believe
verses (were we)
left to remember
the name of a kiss
eternities spent
(on a moment)
one day
more than forever
less than was leaving
back o’er the path
we’d forgotten
(to miss)
we took turns
telling stories
(turns telling lies)
crossing our hearts
with another
. . .
13 Monday Jun 2016
Posted in a time for telling, Poetry
Tags
blessings, eternal, faith, grief, life, loss, love, sacred intimacy, spirit, truth, understanding, worth

dare me not
these tears to carry
when all about are seas
ancient sands
to fill my worry
– bring me
to my knees
with gratitude
for love and losing
grief a many night
I’ve born –
the truth is more
than grace returning
a light
recalled –
to soothe the morn
. . .
10 Friday Jun 2016

cedar
umbrellas
and a whisper at nine –
just as the pink
fades to grey
as dusk lays
her ancient white hands
to my dreams
secrets escape
to the dark
show me
to love you –
beg me recall
with words
I have none
but these lips
who speak within silence
of long –
long agos
of worlds we returned
remember
. . .
09 Thursday Jun 2016
Posted in a time for telling, Poetry
Tags
faith, habits, hope, learning, life, love, nature, seeing in the dark, truth, understanding, wisdom, worth

This morning, as I arrived for work and exited my car, I heard something – an almost silent droning – like a distant lawn mower, but closer.
It was sweetly familiar and before I found the source, I knew already what I would find. In the bushes to the front of my car, I saw a discarded coffee cup sitting upright in the mulch, obviously left behind by landscapers.
Inside the cup, a bumblebee.
The cup was probably about ten inches tall, and I knew instinctively what would happen if I did nothing. The bumblebee would die in the cup. He would swarm and swarm in circles, the excessive flutter of his tiny wings echoing off the cardboard, filling the summer air with the sound of jet engines on idle. He would never think to look up. It’s their nature – to search frantically in circles for a way out where none exists.
To be honest, I used to think it was the same way with tiny birds trapped in my garage, until quite by accident, I discovered a perfect little nest inside the plastic armor that protected the garage door opener.
But back to the bumblebee. I was immediately reminded that sometimes we are the same way. We can wear ourselves out looking for something (a way out) that doesn’t exist and never think to reach beyond our habits, beyond our preconceived notion of how things should work. It may just be a different way of frying cornbread or it could be in the way we look at love. Perhaps our clearest vision exists beyond the reach of our understanding.
“The world is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
reach beyond
this dusty view
into the heart
of all I am –
where mountains
stretch
to meet the clouds
where wings
unspoken soar
NOTE: For those who might be wondering, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I hadn’t knocked the cup over. Some things are worth the risk of being stung (ahhh, and there another story)…….
. . .
03 Friday Jun 2016
Posted in Poetry

how is it
becoming –
a memory true
as the near perfect shade
of chestnut
of root
the filter of lilacs
lavender
moss
as a dream
now surrendered –
tendered by loss
as another I held you
another I wept –
long past the edges
writ for me here
in scripted
assurance –
promise and vine
paths given way
to the margins of time
a keeper unseasoned
by love
at its best
purpose made sweet
by forgiveness
confessed
let me to know
of a place
not so far
as the essence
of lilac –
a night in the stars
. . .
27 Friday May 2016
Posted in Poetry

for every now
a little while –
when yesterday
we wept
grieving in our joy
for one more time
when held aloft
our whispered wish
echoed off
the night
pierced the sunday
somewhere
all the same
a veil of no one
notices
how time is kept
beside –
a moment rare
tucked safely
into dreams
. . .
26 Thursday May 2016
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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