Day 30.

The dip and dive of the hummingbird
just protecting her young
never reached beyond the honeysuckles,
where she rested and never woke up.
There she lays, the dewdrop queen
quieted by butterfly kisses
that couldn’t calm the hum of her heart
even when the willow brush began to sway
like the funeral waltz of a damaged widow’s brigade.
This flower ringed beauty was bound by vine
too jealous to let her wings keep going
so they laid her low
leaving her babies up too high
even for heaven to bow down and embrace them.
Without their mother, how will they survive?

That’s it, 30 for 30. 30 poems in thirty days.

Day 29.

This tarnished silver
never sung the blues
like the willow weeping
on that late Sunday afternoon.

Day 28.

The backfire of an engine
is a jarring reality
of teeth that grind like
chainsaws pulled freshly to life
by the hands of one, desiring
to devour the life of another
with the same greedy eyes
of an orphaned child turned
from his origins, never to face
what he was or acknowledge his past
ever again. These hungry eyes
are never satisfied.

Sorry forgot again.

Day 27.

Cry Canary, cry, can’t you smell the fumes?
This cave was born to collapse
and bring you down too. So sing out
what will your heart song sound like?

Day 26.

Let me be slow to anger
and abounding in grace.

Day 25.

The laugh lines on your face
have drawn us together
like a ripple in a pond
where we disappeared, a rock
slipping away into the water
leaving only the wakes of our being
when we used to be two
but became one.

Again, sorry forgot to post.

Day 24

The warble of a robin egg blue wren
is caught in the canopy of my window;
kept trapped in a little treasure box
for safe keeping for a summer day.
But can I cage the sound without the being
in a tattered net that cannot hold
even the smallest of mysteries?

Sorry, forgot to post.
Day 23.

Count down with a failing arm of an age old clock
that sags beneath the burden of time
like a flower left by a graveside
that holds its best, longest
even though there is no one to see its beauty.

Day 22.

I guess it took me longer than expected
for me to find my way back to you.
Nothing has changed
except
that I feel I have grown older than you.
We grew up together, you help my hand
when times were rough and never
left me even when I left myself.
We made quite the couple, you know,
and now that I have come back
I feel
sadly
that I have outgrown you old friend.
I have changed
Oh how I have changed
but you, dear friend,
have remained exactly the same.
How can I let you know the things I have learned
and the ways I have grown.
No longer alone
no longer longing
but finally and completely full.
You filled me for so long;
you were my false God,
the object of my being
my worship, my praise.
I don’t know if things will ever be the same,
but now that I see,
I don’t know if I want them to be.
I want you to come with me
I want to bring you from the darkness
we dwelled in together for so long.
Come and take this step with me
and begin a new life
so that next time we meet,
we will both be changed
and made new each and everday
by something greater than us.

Day 21.

My heart is consumed with the soft melodic whisper of fall;
the gentle rustle of leaves as they become brittle
rattling like the empty cage of bones in a harsh winter wind.
I pulled apart pieces of my sweater and tied them to trees
to bind the naked limbs of outstretched arms
with skeleton hands to bony to find the warmth
that fills winter hearths with a fire burning
that speaks with the barely audible crackle like a leaf stepped on
just as it finally found a common place with comrades
just as brittle and lonely as itself.
But the comfort of fall has been long gone
this sun brings back the leaves to the naked trees
the new sprouting buds cover
the ties of cotton wrapped around their growing arms
that I left behind on a cold autumn day
hoping the trees wouldn’t feel quite so alone.