I saw one fig, maybe more,
Left behind at winters door.
It’s true, it seems, though over,
This season hears a different score.
Autumn Yellow
Autumn leaves, rich with the sun,
Seem to know winter has come.
Though the clouds heavy, and gray
Have little these days to say,
The memoirs of summer,spring
‘Neath our feet and over sing.
Dear solemn friends how you cherish
Days that otherwise would perish.
Remembering Falusteen
I sat beneath an olive tree
my heart confessing poetry
how I thought to have with me
my brother not his memory
I sat beneath an olive tree
my soul in divine company
a valley of light reaching my feet
and many many a memory…
An Honest Witch
Were you meaning
To cast your spell?
Oh enchantress
You have a tell…
I gave you my heart
Knowing too well
That your spirits
Have you to sell…
A Quiet Protest
There is a flame
in the other room
which seems
to flicker alone.
There is a rhythm
to this shroud of light,
there is a protest
to the still of night.
It is quiet and it is warm,
it moves
to the chorus of the moon.
a long time ago, mother
You held my hand
Beneath such light
An orange blossom
Streetlight night.
My body small
Snow encumbered
The people tired
Somehow sombered
I felt a joy
So quiet and true
As hand and eye
Held warm hue
It was all so strange
And beautiful
My first memory
Of the world.
a kindred moment
You smelled like
The sunset
Bathed in
A garden of figs.
A timelessness
And home
A feeling
Among all things.
What a sun
For whom
I fly on
Servant wings!
What sky?
What ocean?
In your eyes
They are siblings.
to be titled
Just like that
You are gone,
Something like
A passing song.
I find my body
Stumbling to prayer
With feathers on rugs,
You’ve answered the air.
Just like that
Tonight is still
With heavens door
By a window sill.
pockets of light
The trees at night
Theyre filled with song
Waiting for
The bell of dawn .
Pockets of light
Wrapped in wings
Quiet till
Sunlight sings.
We’ll be awake
For just as long
Sailing by dream
Strangers till morn.
thoughts on the responsibilities of the heart
Now when I see you
In my dreams,
As faith leads
Me to believe,
I’d think it was
Meant to be.
If not here
If not now,
I’ll love you through
The witching hour.
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