Bayshore

An autumn evening.

But a brief moment the sunset lasts
With a growing chorus of crickets then
Comes the dark

Across the bayou, lights I start to see;
And I hear from far away the sounds
Of the distant high school football game

Autumn wraps its arms around me
Sitting on the side of a hill
Looking at the shadows and lights on the water
Feeling the breeze blow my hair

And a faint smell of wood-smoke is in the air
And the scent brings strong memory
As though reliving moments in the flesh
And not merely in thought
Of bygone days spent by the bayshore
Of your golden hair catching the last rays of sunset

Occasionally, a car goes by
And I watch the headlights trailing off
Around the bend

And life, or at least my life, this life
Has unity


(Photo by me. Originally Posted 11-14-2015. – Owen)

Frost Lines

The lines of frost.

The lines of frost across the leaves
Now deep within my face

And whence the once-brown hair had grown
The frost now takes its place

From Autumn into Winter comes
A chill that changes things

Beneath the dying leaves and frost
A seed
Of new life
Springs

Sawdust

The mess is obvious…

The mess is obvious,
as is the advanced age of the tools:
but, what we might miss here,
and what we often miss,
is that the act of sawing off or carving away
what is deleterious to the final product
creates chaos;

we then mistakenly see
the unintentional aftereffect
as the purpose of the whole activity.

But the purpose is the carving;
the sawdust is only
the inventible chaos that comes
with creation.

as ivy grows, so grows my heart…

beside the far green forest…

as ivy grows,
so grows my heart:
around the grounds
nobody stalks

as dead, deserted
empty shells
of autumn hopes
and summer walks

beside the far green forest where
the days of old were still newborn;
the scent of honey in the air
past city eyes that scoff and scorn

but only in the passing there
did i behold that distant fire
that speaks of rusted innocence
and wisps of smoke
that e’er go
higher

Rainy Day Thoughts

I photograph a rainbow —

I photograph a rainbow
Through a gray and drizzly haze;
And think: while we communicate
A thousand different ways,

The conversation we might have
Is fragmented, corrupted:
For we now never have one that’s
Not some way interrupted

And out there, past the windshield
In the aether, lives get crossed —
The rainbow goes unseen
Beyond
The intimacy
Lost