Poetry

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? ...

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.