Autumn Sunrise

Picture silent beauty of the fallen

cascades over night in morning’s fresh dew

Would we lives would suspend among such few

swept in a seasonal breeze unspoken

 

While lives do merit certain ambience

having understood time in element

sweet farewell of arid temperament

with knowledge shelter a vortex of chance

 

In morning humanity know each day

means a spiritual guide wills a solace

swift is the timing of fortunate Grace

will soon a blossoming might lead our way

 

Demands seek urgency’s mortality

Cycle of life bestow such is beauty

First Glance

Eyes open

still in mourning

a soft reminder

precious

in the quiet of a breeze

rustling leaves

the next stage

a would be journey lay ahead.

What follows

will be stark extreme

immediate loss

in sensory perception

for some a routine

cycle of life

while others we know

traverse a newer universe

one shares in

solemn

Mortality

While Winter Whisper

Oh to play with the notion of thought,

to understand the reasoning behind

purpose, attitude, maybe the inspiration,

we all do seek when lost in the shuffling

nature of the season.

 

Oh, when winter will remark upon

a simple morning frost, to make allowance

for concept, to create, maybe instinctive,

our bodies, our selves, intermingle

with the true meaning of life,

when swept inside the tenets of an arctic

breeze, chilling and responsible, ease.

 

Once, while a child, ‘I watched in solemnity,’

his body laid into the cold, dark earth,

forever to be walked upon, glanced nearby,

thought of in the chilly absence of life.

We all stepped tenderly away, him alone,

the music did continue to play,

but I, the child, I never really understood.

 

Walk with me, she said that early evening,

her smile frozen in the iciclic nature of time,

I wondered if when we ever did reach

a destiny, if then, perhaps would be a time,

we might center ourselves and then ask when.

But the winds were fierce, the bridge far too close,

the edge always asking for me, screaming really,

our separate paths become the night pattern.

 

Oh to hear the sounds, the visions do emanate,

for the will of our lives, the anguish we debate.

When Nature Steps In

We are eager like the children we once began our lives

when outside we feel the changing seasons begin a cry

suggest for a time everything motivates our mind revives

itself in the cool winter air, as Mother Nature stops by

~

For a moment we will stop and watch the descent of beauty

in colorful rays as the atomic nature of energy begins to sigh

when once before a moral hardship might offer less security

tonight, I’m excited to know there will be no other reason why.

~

I can feel my lonely body anticipate the changing of the guard

a certain smile has me overcome with anticipation of morning

while we prepare our lives to meet the newly christened yard,

we’ll chuckle as all our lives this rite of passage keeps returning.

~

I want to watch while the sky in methodical thrust covets my why

I wish to by evening know we will swift be layered by Nature’s sigh

Winter Winds

Cool air

soaking in the forest quiet nearby

we know it waits

we realize our lives will need warmth,

we are readily restored by a the sharp brace

of winter winds

makes us feel alive again.

A society relies upon the changing seasons to market their lives,

where else would we find ourselves planning for the latest fashion

without the guarantee …

temperature is dropping.

I get a little nervous sometimes when reminded

of that part of nature I don’t understand,

beyond the shelter of my walls,

well past the peace of a kindling fire,

I want to know more about the friend who is suffering,

yet, I’d rather not,

if I just look the other way,

well then,

it didn’t really happen did it.

Unless I turn on the news,

there are constant reminders

of a cool air well beyond the concept of our dreams.

A society exists with every interaction,

we can decide to associate

or simply get involved in the smallest manner possible.

We choose a limitless supply of polite escape.

~

When the winds do arrive I will notice as much as I hope you do too,

we are the same as we were when in the heat of a tropical sunlight

we could smile.

Whisper Autumn

While skies begin a stretch of cooler winds

body seeming to recognize limits

each stepping stone, virtual time rescinds

calculate further storm than time admits.

~

A child witness color – aging leaves

headstrong emotions tacked upon crackles

like a midnight fire sparks ember heaves

slow to respond yet beauty sheds shackles.

~

Perhaps a few more days together walks

a couple in a distance twinkling lights

certain ambience listens, cadenced clocks

strike hours, minutes, gathering delights.

~

Shadows interact well the wintry skies.

Spiritual songs sound sweet mating cries.

Summer is Now a Reflection

summer

I came to realize her days are numbered

the scent of blossom begins to wane,

slowly drawn toward eventual harvest,

night skies begin to shift our eyes

upon constellate cooler streams

of light to suggest her time has come.

~

In evening breeze we listen clear

the melody of a cricket greeting

Nature’s compelling stronghold

upon this ever changing season.

Symbolic gestures while humanity

will stretch opportunity beyond

the natural course of time.

We do believe we can do this.

~

Is that a seething comedy of error

to compel, this generated heat

present inside a space of hours

will draw our lives toward fantasy.

An orb of energy plays brilliant

while all about Her gifts recede.

~

That, natural course of time evolves,

will always leave, swift sated skin.

~

* photo found on Pinterest

When Walking

This morning, the crisp air, mixed with sun-streaks

lets the ice glisten upon frozen sheets.

Every sound is a crackle with boots, silent surround

in Winter. When speaking to humanity we might

suggest the temperature falls well below our comfort

level, knowing the cold will remain through the night,

as we each wish the swift agony of time away.

~

I will wake to flowers outside my window and smile

knowing our energy is drawn by melting the rage

of Winter’s wrath. Our hearts become spirited,

playful in Spring’s sweet arrival. We are neighbors

who annually will come outside to tend our lawns,

and share stories of the long departure of silence.

The human condition may flourish alive together.

~

While the asphalt bakes our skin on our barefoot strolls

we are reminded how the seasons amplify our mortal

soul. We live for BBQ’s and Summer pool parties,

sharing love of warmth and sweet recreation. When

do the elements of fear begin to settle in on quiet

summer nights? How do we recognize our need to

welcome everyone home tonight and share the heat.

~

And yet always, the cooling begins, we are blessed with shawls

and evening fires, while the mist of our autumn begins to show.

We laugh with camp stories that share our history together.

We are a nation of similarities that even in the other side of town

will still recognize a desire to laugh and cry and love one another.

While the days become shorter and the nights work longer

hours, we are still sharing the duty of Winter’s soon return.

~

We talk of different tracks, race, we emphasize now what society lacks,

Yet sunlight brightens our day; moonlight suggests the beauty of night.

People Plowing Fields

grain

There were these conversations

I tried to be a part of

One might think of them as argument

When you listened closely

I would often wonder about outcomes

How the voices might corroborate

Given the angst shared in dialogue

Certainly lacks some collaboration

One afternoon later in the summer

I saw two or three participants

Laugh together in unison

React to witty banter, sardonic notions

I wondered about their interaction

Given previous streams of conversation

~

There were these situations

I could recall in my life

One might think of them as absurd

If you watched closely

Grown men argue aloud an ‘expert’ theory

Each one eliminates the other

Their point of view would create a stir

Society would ready arms of rule

Suggest one side cancel the fool’s

Insight that seemed to weigh out well

When all was settled into tyranny

The two might sit for hours in theory

Yet one could offer praise to the other

Given previous a perilous situation

~

There were these interactions

I have heard of in distant paths

One might imagine their painful truths

If anyone pays attention

A little boy was taunted at school

Children joined, aggravated words

He cried alone to avoid any judgment

Knew the elders were simply nearsighted

The reality became evidence of abuse

Now a grown man became another

Victim of theories that asked for nothing

Beyond a cry to ignore the world around

-Go with the flow and call it status quo-

Their single solitary lacking interaction

~

We seem to relish our own personal validation

While we willing ignore the changing seasons

Wild Skies

Feel life brisk

High pressure settle in

Crisp, autumn morning

With blasts

Draping serious skies

Winter’s scorn is upon us all

A heaviness basks in air

Time now

Time asks for preparation

Nestling

When once we were alone …

~

Quiet morning  sun piques behind

Wandering winds

Haunting as the settling sky

Corrals summer’s eve

While we wait upon

A long and slow March

The dusty road turns cold …

~

The winds of autumn reckoning

Each season’s sweet serenity

autumn