top Snow Glowered Sky

Defunct yet still exclaims
Futures must be
Attended to.
Beware false
Promises of wind.

top Second Day

I made coffee this morning.
Cleaned myself then dressed.
The sun stares at me
Through the windshield
And I hear a vague
High pitched whine
Of odd excitement,
I've forgotten my lighter.
Panic screws tight
A little light bulb
Inside my chest.
I breathe deep
Into the continuance
Of cessation and think
Life has become
Less luxurious.

top Never Now But Then

Roads and sidewalks
Foundations to repair
On top of the shift
Of earthskin
Like it would never
The vacant fall down
Peerage broken.
Instead of contemplation
From the inside
Rooms are viewed within
From without.
Cautious orange cones
To demarcate a zone
You will be safer
Outside of
While the world
Wiggles and quakes.

top If I Stare Long

I do not see wind
I look through to introspect
No time left for you.

top First Day

Not inhaled
Not even lit.
Voids in the day
Like a step down
To a riser
That is not there.
Confused uncertainty
Leaves my pocket
More space
With the lighter

top Kiss the Sky Through the Trees

I have only held on
For so long because
Because there have
Always been trees
In the way
And here I am
Deep rooted.
A woman I liked very much
Became afraid to leave
Her house.
I was always out
Drinking sunshine
With a bit too much
It was there, you know,
When the trees
Grew over the road.

top Vernal Eye

So daffodils and rowdy
Iris along with grape hyacinths
Come out in small dots
Of color and wilt all soggy
Before Kansas wind.
Springtime jutters in
Like a teenage kid
Gets up for school.
Easter all churched up
And smiles around
Family tables.
Heat soon will be
The topic
And how there hasn't
Been enough rain.

top Mother's Garden Chair

It has been awhile
Since she sat there.
A plan to make
For the next season,
Mom sat here
While she considered
For iris, roses, and phlox.
Now plans are made
Everyday by my mother.
Within moments
Intent is lost,
But soon another surprise
Takes her attention
Each day complete
And new.

top One Iris

So many years
In my mother's garden
Were spent by her
Thinning the iris
Then all of us
Praised the blooms
In springtime.
For several years now
She has forgotten
Her need to tend
Her flowers.
Now the plants
Have moved beyond
Their careful borders.
A disarray of green
From seeds
Fallen from her bird feeder.
Strange twists
And shoots from
From the treasured
Birds fascination
Of mother as
She stares through
A darkened pane.

top Dimmer Now

Illusion and means
To an end
Are common filigree
To a darker intent
Of happy.
It is sunny
And cold.