With a hint of mint

Grandiose morning

generous with sun,

immaculate clouds

and a vibrant hue

bleeding in the sky

Yawning wide

set in melodramatic calm,

charged with lush silence,

dabbled in beauty

That leaves me so awake

I realize

my pencil smells

Like sausage and peppers

with a hint of mint

image

a calm bit for friday

Here, my head is

flushed with sky

and cool like shimmering shadows

left in the simmer of summer

as my body lay

within the water line,

a soft ring around my shoulders

pulsing with each inflection of water,

each small wave

in near shallows where

my feet, my knees, my shins

rest cradled

in lake-bottom sand

and here

there are no bothers

no worries

no pending cares

no society to answer to;

just being alive,

a dazzling star

reflected in the lake

all that I know

cool

edge eyes

So close to the edge
between refined space
and full free regrowth
sounds the rush of air,
wide hush beneath moving cars
and hungry engines
that drown out the sweet,
unmistakable echo
of whistling birds in song
and terse flapping wings.
These things are interspersed in
splotchy shadows lining bright
sun-lit green leaves that
angle a fine net,
a latticework to shelter
all innocent things
just trying to live,
clear like the deer’s eyes
not too far from me.
Her able footwork
is smooth and graceful,
near silent until
the break of a twig,
revealing herself
with broad sides cloaked in strong fur
and her steady, structured spine
but how curious, those eyes,
they see harmless things,
like critters see her,
critters that see me, and yet
continue their life
for the sake of surviving,
all innocent things.

GE DIGITAL CAMERA
This is not the picture I based this off of, but the only picture of an animal similar to the deer I saw πŸ™‚

another tree

Bony wrists and

knotted joints

pose flowered cups

and spread still capillaries

into the sky

and into the earth

inhaling water

and breathing out air

the same we breathe in

and breathing in

the same air we breathe out

although we still

dance around the earth

on mobile feet

and grow flowers of our own

in our minds

and hold life

in all our fingers

intertwining ourselves

with the sky

from afar

and thinking

always thinking

what would life be

if we were different?

photo 2 - Copy (5)

Leftovers

In the sweet audacity of the moment

englufend in forbidden calm

and sun

leak over crumpled plant

With leftovers from before

in a summer

when once alive

dried leaves balanced

on a stick

it was such a nice morning

Clear and bright,

the surprisingly still pond reflects

flickers of green needles

lit by the wind

and contrasts glowing clouds

peeking over the hill

warm like molten metals

dripping through veins

of the birds

swirling focused in flight

and singing the morning

to rise.

some thoughts at dusk

So we are covered in shadows
and sit in the dark
maybe
but
who says the dark affects you?
and don’t worry, because
the sun will come
my friend
and you know that it will.
And with it
you will forget the shadows
no,
they will forget you
because the dark is afraid
of your strength
of your spirit
and the shadows
creep away in fear
of being taken
by the sun.
image

A bit of belief

poetry
is for the people
that still believe in magic
floating in the air around us
invisible to eyes
but sensed
in little beads and sparks
and silk ribbons
loosely binding the wind
to flowing footsteps
in no specific order
all in the right direction
and what that magic is
is the belief in hope
that blurs the line between
ordinary and
fantastic
and all that magic does
is put color between words
and things we see and hear.
Above all there is magic
in emotions
all put into actions
like an orange in its peel
the emotions are fruit
wrapped in skin
and when we translate them
the magic is evident
in shiny blossoms
and liquid succession
rivers of quasi-patterned bits
dance in mind’s eye
excited by life

hand