drifting

sleeping dog
smiles
runs with joy
cloudy eve
leaves
raindrop songs
thoughts drift
above
landscapes serene
no stars
shine
but light
radiates
candlelight hums
tabletop
the evening
your smile
reflects
my anticipation.

when you sang

more than what was heard

here between
the silence
the music
you sing
again
brown eyes
focus only
on words
elevated
with tone
across
the crowded
room
at your
blue.

Woven

Those things that still hang
taken to the grave, buried
the grief… sorrow… and
even the love
with those last words
that echo
the darkness,
stitching that holds you
down, “…whenever I look
at you…”
and how the variants
contrasted
now only stones
in the garden
fossils that mark
the loose
connection,
a connection
none-the-less
knit and pearled
a sweater
that now
hangs
the closet hook,
its emblem
a reminder
like distant memories
snowy and cold,
the spiders
that clung
to the frosted window
and the glow
from the evening
light that creeps
the door’s gaps,
threads it all 
like
rivers that run wild
fiercely 
they pass
on untamed stories
in 
hushed and
luscious tones
woven for you
a shell to wear
the winter
of these days.

pieces

that small space
between pages turn
another time then
when hands held
pieces of green
delicate dancers
distant birds call
as dandelions smile
smile
 the walking mesa’s
fringes ancient rocks
where the Rio runs
early evening speaks
evening stars peaking
graces the edges
and softly descends.

unexplained

of the finest
these moments
transform energy
blooms compassion
with little hands
half-closed eyes
gently
steps aside
my fragile heart
begins a new song
with graceful
dancing smiles
notes
passed
along other roads
where trees
always
sway poetry
in gentle breezes
and your love
not contained
carries the river
touches bare feet
of children playing
sandy shoes
that line the door
warm cocoa memories
rich laughter
like kindness
unexplained

she sleeps

the fine line

you were so small crossing the bridge
your hand hidden in mine, fingers close round
and the rickety bridge with missing boards
the little creek singing up from below

somehow the cave at the end of the trail
seemed so much larger and darker then
such adventures unexpected were born
that summer when you were only eight

the hope returns now in Sophia’s laughter
with the same smile and little hands
that hold the dreams of our fine lines
passed down from mother to child

like the stories we told and lullabies
soothing the wrinkled days we find hope
connecting us all to each other again for
in the dreams of tomorrow, she sleeps

– Previously Published

walking shoes

how the marks tell the story

these desert days
white canvas
shoes standing
know you
worn dirt
many places seen
walking these paths
rich, rugged
rain or shine
grounded
feeling all
pebbles and stones
stepping lightly
while always
looking up.

in that unknown

what might be

steps fall
before the dawn
walking halls
while seconds
tick again
inside the
feelings
begin to
take form
surface and
gasp
their first
breath
with that
piercing
cry while
in the corner
of such a
manicured
scene lies
abandoned
the gems
once cherished
now locked
behind
cedar walls
with
old photos
of a love
what could
have been
lost to
things
unknown
and searching
turns you now
pleadingly
toward
western skies
in that
sweet unknown
twisting for
what might be
again