I Dream a Summer Love

I dream a

Summer love

of passion,

heat and light.

 

I dream a

Summer love

of rain-kissed kisses,

your lips

unfolding like

flower petals,

yielding,

fragrant,

and soft.

 

I dream a

Summer love

of water and sand,

of ebb and flow,

and give and take,

and swollen tsunamis

of helpless,

trembling release

 

I dream a

Summer love

of consuming sun

and comforting moon.

 

I dream a

Summer love

of gentle breezes,

caressing

gentle, caressing

hands

 

I dream a

Summer love

as loud as the

call and response

of thunder and lightning

 

I dream a

Summer love

as whirling

as the undulating dance

of sea and sky

 

I dream a

Summer love

of starry eyes

that look into

the confines

of

my soul

and see the

infinite.

The Ancient Moon

Ah, look you, men of iron will.

See, fools of tender heart.

Behold, those of noble birth.

Attend, lowest of the low.

 

In all majestic splendor,

the gentler orb turns

soft and saddened eye

to sodden field.

 

There is no one to greet her,

to write a sonnet to her beauty,

no one left now even to ignore it,

or wish in hope upon it.

 

Yet on your ancient quarrels,

as she always has, she rises,

and gazes on your stillness,

wonders at your silence,

and cries the falling stars

to soak, and cloak the folly

of your war-filled hearts.

The ancient moon,

in tranquil glory,

in timeless diary,

writes once more…

They do not love.