Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Home Alone In A Storm

Home Alone in a Storm

Pebble dash dreams
rattle the window
sheet rain slashes
the inky mire.
I lie in my clay house,
my safe house,
still awake,
and yearn,
as the storm prowls
the walls,
yearn for his company
like a stove yearns a flame

Saturday, April 15, 2017

The Moon, The Owl and The Nightingale

The moon,
yesterday's fool,
now rather beaten on one side.
Past her bloom
she glows less bright,
destined to follow her path.

An owl hoots from high
in the bone-white
eucalyptus tree
breaking the silence
repeating, repeating,
to wit, to woo

And then the nightingale,
that seasonal opportunist,
chants from the lower woodlands.
Soft, chirpy bursts
of pure song.
I am the one, choose me,
let me be your destiny.

The owl moves on
her voice comes
from across the hillside,
and mole-crickets
begin their racket.

The ancient songs
of call and response
through the night continue.
Nature holds us lightly
that we may taste freedom
as we pound our paths
to home.