Quiet Darkness

A stillness pervades the air

A quiet melancholy, creeping on little paws

Ready to pounce unannounced

On the unsuspecting.

Rolling all in the path as it moves

Blowing like a storm.

Terrorizing like a tornado in the dark of night.

No mercy and no forgiveness.

It is the last breath that escapes your lips.

The last word,

Whispered…

Into the quiet darkness.

Reflections in the Glass

Reflections in the glass

Half-images looking back.

Wavering with impermanence,

Yet real enough to touch.

A dream immersed in reality,

Full of possibility.

Yet disappearing with the slightest move.

Through A Child’s Eyes

The world was always beautiful.

Snow was pristine,

Summer leaves, verdant green.

Fall was pumpkins and spice

And spring was when the tulips came.

A butterfly was a wonder to chase

Through a yard, like a cat stalking prey.

And the roses, carefully tended

By my grandmother’s wrinkled hands,

Her blue sweater hanging off her shoulders.

.

Trees were to be climbed,

Apples to be eaten and cheese

was something suck from the fridge

When no one was looking.

Catching lightning bugs or

Building snow men

Was the chief mission in life

And we thought little of the time

we spent. Instead

rushing,

always rushing,

to grow up.

.

Now the snow has lost its shimmer

Turning to a dull grey slush too soon,

Though the snow seldom comes.

Summer burns hot, the sun in my

eyes, and in my breast taking

away my breath.

Spring is damp and the knee I scraped

on that tree when I feel is no longer

pleased, nor in fall when

the cold shorter days take the leaves

that I now must rake.

.

The flowers no longer bloom the

way they once did, as now I

notice the falling petal,

the dying leaf.

Now my hands are more like hers,

wrinkled in ways I never imagined

with blue lines staring back at me.

I have that sweater now

And pull it just a bit tighter.

.

Looking up I see the tree I used

to climb, and for that moment

relive the glory of youth, a smile escapes

unwittingly.

 

Fall Walk

How gentle lie the clouds

On a canvas of blue,

Floating along my eternity.

A single ray of bright light shines

Upon the birch, now almost leafless

And naked before fall.

I snuggle myself into the season,

Yet another one passed

And await winter’s judgement.

Moon Lilies (Cascading Haiku)

Little lilies grow,

Softly, white in pale moonlight.

Reaching for the stars.

.

Hiding from daylight

That curls little petals brown,

Just to fade away.

.

Like precious moon drops

Casting ripples in a stream.

Only to go still.

 

 

Pictures of the County Fair

The smiles of children hosting trophies,

Ribbons and awards from the county fair.

I remember fondly my days of summer sun

And look back to what a world I had their.

Dressed in blue plaid and jeans,

Eating too much cotton candy

And spending dollars on winning cheap trinkets.

Being invincible and being young.

 

Now I look at the new faces,

Standing where we once stood.

The feelings that tomorrow was too far away,

But not realizing how quickly it would come.

The names, they are still familiar.

They are our names, but no longer ours.

For they are our children.

Sometimes it Never Comes

It had been weeks, that I admit.

But I rationalized he wouldn’t know.

The frail figure, so tiny

Wasn’t the same man I used to know.

How easy it was to say

And keep moving about my chores.

.

I went to bed that night,

Expecting all things to stay as they were.

Nothing would change

Because it hadn’t for years.

And besides, he wouldn’t know.

.

Then my son came,

He wasn’t supposed to be home.

It was a dream.

It had to be a dream.

“Grandma needs you.”

I heard the words, but sat there stunned.

 

The blur that was shrouded that which had been.

Things had changed, and I was too late.

There was not another day.

There would be no more wait ’til tomorrow.

Sometimes it just never comes.

Ghost of the Living

The step is a little slower,

The glimmer that once sparkled now a little dull.

Age has stooped the figure once so proud and tall.

When he speaks, its a little more softly

And the hands, worn with worry and work

Are now crooked from the pain.

The dark hair has turned ice white

But the fierceness still burns inside.

He’s still in there somewhere,

Even if he doesn’t always recall where.

The pain is now mostly ours,

For, now, only we remember.

Without Words

The sigh heaves itself from my chest,

And I walk the other away.

Not because I am out of words.

But because I have no more to say.

The exhaustion spring forth

Resigning me to eternal damnation.

I could try to speak,

But for you, there is no explanation.

Your mind closes about the facts,

The ones so conveniently created.

No reality needs to be entertained

Just my integrity berated.

So as the pain fills my heart

I will walk away.

For I am without words,

And this is the last I’ll say.

Late Winter Grass

Verdant blades mingled with white

Promises of that yet to come.

Shrouded in the cold of ice

Yet sparking the warmest of dreams.

Waiting for rays of warmth

And fields of daffodils.

Longing for warm kisses on my cheek

And the wind across the back of my neck.

Oh little green stalk standing so bravely

Please tell me when your friends will arrive.