Quiet Interlude

Day has fallen
To her knees,
The quietude 
Is deafening,
And love’s a tune
That other people hear —

She muses on
Both light and hope,
The way they each
Are lessening,
And how it is that dreams give way
To fear —

But lightly, o’er across the lake,
An evening bird is singing,
One probably no one but her
Discerns

And isn’t this the way of things,
To wander in the shadows
As each of us into the light

Takes turns

Storms May Rage

Tearing up the winding stairs…

She’s abandoned, wild, uncertain
Tearing up the winding stairs;
Through the backroom’s secret curtain
Up past all the lifted prayers

Dark the angry night is screaming
All she had is lost and gone:
Lightning flashing, rain is streaming
One last task that she’s bent on

But the tower’s not deserted
One old woman there’s withdrawn:
Calmly looks up, as alerted
Says, “I know what’s going on.

I know what has happened, dearest –
And this way is not the way:
There’s a future still ahead, much
Better than your yesterday.”

That was forty years ago and
Now she waits within the tower:
For the young girl broken-hearted
Who she’ll give a bit of power

Just to know that life’s not ending
Just to show what’s yet-to-be:
Storms may rage, with doom impending
But there’s hope
Past what
We see

walking dream

the morning shyly moves away
in waves of mist and cream;
and i move damp with spray and sand
into a walking dream

the dimly cast horizon sits
beyond the veil of sight;
where time stands loosely, hands by sides,
and day melds into night

your breath i hear, your touch i feel,
as light as feathered gauze;
the scent of ocean waves and kelp,
as hope – with its own laws

and so the mists of morningside
surround and pierce through me;
the walking dream of one who’s still
at one with
destiny

if minds could touch…

if minds could touch,
you’d know that i was near you,
if hearts could sing
you’d hear me everywhere,

if eyes could see
when all around is empty,
the dark’ning day
would never seem so bare —

i’d kiss your wearied thoughts,
and rouse your courage,
i’d stroke the edges,
worn and frayed too much,

of all your fading hopes;
a loving blanket
i’d be for you, today,
if minds

could touch

The Fading Path Back Home

If wishes could our dreams make true,
I’d walk the fading path back home
And see the very best of you
Beside a sunset polychrome

But years come in, and like the tide
They bear away our wishes late,
To leave an emptiness inside
That is our burden and our fate

For much that was, no longer is,
And much we feared has come to be;
Until the day that just to wish
Becomes a part of history —

But that day is not here, just yet.
The waves are restless, topped with foam,
And I will not forsake, forget
The love that lights
The fading path
Back home

Perceive, remember, and descry…

Perceive, remember, and descry
The truth among the many weeds
That hide away from softer eye
To where the heart’s true river leads –
For love’s a day,
A year, a land,
And hope is ever
Near at hand.

Observer, discover, and inspect
The reasons why the night still aches:
And in the quiet times, reflect,
That love may bend, but never breaks –
For where we be
The echoes fall,
And hope is ever
Standing with
Us all

… The Game Is Ours

A man my age should better know:
But I do not. And so I go
About spare minutes spinning rhymes;
To jot them down, and post betimes.

I write: of heartache, and of loss;
Anomalies I come across;
The nonsense that infests my head
When first I’m getting out of bed;

Of love and aging; joy and woe;
Of how far, still, we have to go;
And many other things beside.
My interests are strange and wide.

What do I hope to do with this?
I hit sometimes, but often miss,
The targets that I’m aiming at:
But post in spite of all of that.

But all I really hope to gain?
To share my thoughts: the joy, the pain,
The emptiness I might go through,
In hopes that when you read it, too

You’ll nod your head, and say “I know”.
And recognize me, as you go,
As one like you, who does his best;
Who tries and sometimes fails the test

But still shows up – we’re all still here.
We speed along, we ride the curve,
And whether far away or near,
The game is ours, if we’ve
The nerve