The rain strikes,
the clod shifts, opens,
gives access to the seed,
and baptizes it
with water.
The sun,
rising, warm,
tosses javelin rays
to strike through the
blades of grass.
The seed shell warms,
and gives birth.
The sprout breaks free
in jubilant celebration
of its youthful freedom,
and sways in the wind,
as it reaches for the sky.
And winter smiles,
and vanishes
over the sea.
Your guitar
echoed over the ocean,
the melody you played
slow and beautiful,
timeless and flowing
like the small waves,
working slow magic,
only to vanish
with an essence of shore,
of time,
of us,
drawn to your music
for a brief and lively
dance,
waving farewell
in whitecap
whispers.
You opened
your eyes
to find mine,
crossing the bridge to your heart’s chorus,
singing the harmony to your life,
and composing our love,
the song
that only stops,
but never ends.
She stops
as all the other kids
run by.
She sees him in the doorway, a smile on his face,
watching them run.
She smiles at him and waves.
She runs and skips,
and he hears the scratch
of her heels on the sidewalk.
He chuckles, remembers when
he too,
possessed that superpower.
He waves good-bye
to far more
than her fading image.
Though she doesn’t see,
he has no regrets,
and goes inside to the
ponderous ticking
of his dusty
grandfather clock.
*picture by Ethereal Mind at deviantart.com
Shadows on hills,
day’s end.
A persimmon sun sets
in the bosom of a verdant valley,
and the evening star stares
like a curious child at the
lone man walking the road
to darkness.
Your absence is cold space
beside me on
this solitary
twilight stroll.
I miss the glimmer
of your starry eyes.
I miss the skipped beat of your
excited heart.
I miss the anchoring tenderness
of your embrace.
I miss melting into
your kisses.
Your memory fades like a painting,
a haunting last note of a lilting melody,
a classic fallen from grace.
And once more, I’m reminded:
Love will not reciprocate what
she requires to live.
Beyond Panic 