meditation on morning
what wind
teaches
as slow as spring
I begin to mistrust urgency.
Ocean’s Edge
The city spread below me jeweled by the night
Marry
let our roots go down to water
Windows – 8 (Avenues)
Will he (or she) find generous rooms, warm with art and soft with cushions, and a table laden for a feast?
Windows – 7 (Love’s Labour Lost)
The same arm curled around his woman’s waist as they moved together. The same arm caught up his infant daughter, held her warm against his chest. The same arm opened a door; the same arm closed it.
The Line of the Tide
Here the land and the sea will write the song for you…
roused by silence
Apparently, without cause, there was effect.
fronteira
Between me
and me
are borders
crossed only
by time
Human rights in the mist
I watch the world’s movements. It turns with the same steady footstep as always, but the humans aboard become frightened, startle at shadows and . . . make decisions tainted by their imagined or promoted fears.
bed of coals
Wasn’t she beautiful, with her collection of contentments and quiet loves, her giving and receiving? Even if none were there to share it, tonight?
Windows – 6 (A return of sorts)
I wonder how these first impressions will deepen… again… to become fuller and more important to me as our intimacy grows, the greatest beauties and surprises in relationship those that are watered by time, fed by love and loss, and remembered in a few quick lines.