her city

Her city is black and silver;
suspends exhaust fumes and far lights
roses lost in centerpieces,
their red exposed to arched bridges,

Where silver ripples bounce and flow
and reflect no picture of depth
under noir velvet sky six stars
pulled by the clean clip of the moon;

Wild reaches of reds on branches
are not contained by her city,
nor are the yellows held for long
and browns and greens dip to water,

Slight rainfall in lines and drops,
nothing deep like diamond facets,
nothing full like a harbored flame
rushes free to fight this black;

Although stunning quiet and shy,
it is a familiar face,
autumn trickling through the night,
her city set on the river.

Tonight the crickets sound like stars

Tonight the crickets sound like stars;
distances away in atmospheres,
And when they falter in the night,
electric cycles carry on alright;
Perhaps the rhythm sounds more trill
gesturing attacks like alarms will,
Until it splices in my ears:
to fading beeps like dead batteries.

word dump from night

We wandered in awe
encased in the still night,
lucid in its inky darkness
and cricket chants
as we gazed at the stars,
that sheet of a sky
infinitely deep and
holding the rest of the universe
between connected shapes
of perspective lights.

We were contemplating fear,
afraid to break this
routine hush under
bare reflecting limbs
arching over our heads
around where we stored dreams.

And we knew we were worthwhile
at least to ourselves
because we could smell
the plants on our feet
we could see
the shadowed woods
we could hear
bugs and frogs
we could gather
all the dew we wished
we could learn
the pattern of the stars
we could conquer
stifled anxieties
and we could smile,
the little bits we are,
connected to all,
we mattered because
we spread peace,
we could smile.

Night Cover

Along this path I walk alone,

the night takes me in her arms

as colors bleed from the horizon

my sorrows breathe into nothing.

The broken hues of frozen hands

wish to be constant like the sky,

with steady steps each star unwinds

across the stretch within my eye.

I know this calm is made of grace

with reach like low limbs, humble tree

from his hands, his feet, his face

that his body is protecting me

First day of spring (snow!)

Night after snowfall
so still so silent
Yet the ground covered in white
plays a tinkling tune
of breathable ambiance
moonlight through ivory
This wooden piano
immune to crystal cold
smells of warm cookies
And a nestled fire
in the hues of night
Blue gray and black
tip toeing among
snowless clouds
And the last dawn of
Drifting snow