An Untoward December

I dream in silence, dream of running children,
Of you, the way you were so long ago;
So long ago, some untoward December,
The cold before the falling of the snow.
You’re going faster, up and towards the mound —
The film is running, running without sound

There is no taste or scent, there’s only vision;
The colors are bedimmed, to black-and-white,
You turn, excited, asking me to chase you,
And in my dream, I’m ready for the flight —
For though the scene is silent, I’m assured
By how you looked, of what had been your word.

With travels great, word-billions said,
Somehow, there lives within my head,
A vision, like a silent show:
A place I was a hundred lives ago —

I dream in silence, dream of us as children,
Of you and I out running in the fields,
Out in the fields of untoward December,
Before our hearts constructed all these shields —
For though the world grows old and taut with violence,
I still remember you within
The silence


Photo credit : ID 72579129 Vadim Zakharishchev | Dreamstime.com

Seasons

In spring, you feel the newness of it all.
Each feeling is a flower, fresh, unique;
Like love or loneliness, each one is pure,
And beauty of discovery hangs round
The edges of the garden path that leads
To who you want to be and where and how —
In spring, you feel the newness of it all.


Summer on the edge of madness
Broken in emergent song;
Love’s a shadow born of gladness.
Nights too short for days so long

Shades come down on pages turning,
Glances lead to bodies burning,
Tangled up in their intentions,
Loves and likes and cites and mentions —

Summer in the glowing garden,
Moments known of passing fire,
Ere the fall comes hearts to harden,
Towards the autumn of

Desire


In the cool of autumn, still
We stood and wondered how,
We’d found each other in
This savant maze

A capturing, a visioning,
A laughter, and a pause —
A hymn, but more of promise, than
Of praise

It came with resignation, and
It went without applause;
A family, a faction,
And a fight —

The autumn sun was fading, and
The days were growing dark,
And we were changing colors with
The night


With time, comes winter, with its chill,
And we must finally go inside for heat,
And memories of the spring,
When everything was fresh and new,
And summer,
When we felt how love could be,
When heat was running wild,
Autumn,
When we stood out in the cool,
The evening cool, and watched
The twilight gather with
Its purple whispers
Of a looming time;
A time we’ve only known
As parable

With age, comes winter, with its rime,
And frozen becomes attitude, and time,
There is a slower pace,
And giving up of contest, game, and race;
But character is fate,
And all we leave’s too early, or too late,
The winter has it’s way
There is only the challenge of each day
And dripping memories,
That melt like icicles from trees,
And spring starts for another heart somewhere:
Another heart and life

Somewhere

When someone gives their life to love

When someone gives their life to love,
There’s no parade, or marching band;
And yet, it happens every day,
In rooms or shacks, throughout the land

You ask me why the sky’s so bright,
Or why the fields are rich and green?
When someone gives their life to love,
They yield the world their colors, and
Their sheen


Picture credit : Yung Chao Chen

Keep Going

It’s 3 a.m., your eyes are white
Keep going, just keep going
Another day without a night
Keep going, just keep going

Tumultuous your dreams were tossed,
Where much is given, much is lost,
And money never covers cost
Keep going, just keep going

I look, and see her sleeping there
Get going now, get going
I stop and sit to stroke her hair
Get going now, get going

As early comes another day.
She sighs, and then she turns away,
I think, and hope, she’ll be okay
Get going now, get going

We do not know what is to come
Keep going, just keep going
And where and what will heal the numb
Keep going, just keep going

But life is this: one dare, one chance,
One spotlight on a single dance,
And one way we must all advance,
Though when, there is no knowing –

Keep going, then.
Keep going, just

Keep

Going

Reroutes (3)

He worked a farm in summer
To save and pay for college,
Just sun and soil and sweat
He traded in for knowledge,

And though things didn’t go
Exactly as he’d planned,
He told his son that one day
He would understand.

The jobs were hard and varied,
His effort though, unflagging,
His son could never see.
Why work when pay is lagging?

And when the son was old enough,
He wanted his own brand —
Because he’d seen the toil
And didn’t understand.

In time he gained a family:
A daughter by his wife —
He knew there were no limits.
He would give those two his life —

And driving to the farm
His father’s buried on, he stood,
And said, “I understand, now, Dad.
And all of it is good.”

Reroutes (1)

There was a time I meant to go
Another way. Another place
Was where I set out for, at first,
And though my long steps I retrace,
It’s hard to know where I went wrong,
A turn too early or too late —
But I guess where we’re destined for
Is really up
To fate.

And so I find myself aware
Of sloping hill and gleaming sea;
A world so different than the old
That seemed to mean so much to me,
It’s hard to know just what make
Of being free, yet being stuck —
But I guess how things come to be
Is really up
To luck.

I stand and watch the searching clouds
That move forever, restlessly;
I carry one old photograph
Of way back then, and you with me,
I bathe within the wonders here,
A type of yearning, walking trance —
But how or when our hearts move on
Is really up

To chance