Outside my window,
The sky black in twilight,
No breeze to offer an anxious
Tear into a calm evening.
Except the bullfrogs near
Must be a dozen at least
A three sound utterance
Shared by another nearby
Three times that’s all,
Perhaps the pitch might change,
Another again will chime in,
They’ll all be together in sound
I wonder about the simplistic strife
Surrounded alone in a pond of afterlife
I would dream summers
running through hemlock
brush scratches naked calves
the moment, lost in its mystique
When we were kids
we were ushered out of the house
play until you drop
play until you drop
We didn’t mind
being ushered out
we were in our element
children of summer
When I was a child
I didn’t imagine barriers
there wasn’t a risk of
seeing a friend bloodied
We didn’t walk around
waiting for our parents
who were never to be found,
unless of their own volition.
When I was a younger boy,
I could run for hours,
feeling the heat of summer
knowing the thrill of joy
In my wildest dreams
I was never sought, ushered,
told to stop my scream
for justice beyond my dream.
Today, the children of summer
are everywhere and far away
from the beauty of love
the compassion of a tender tear.
Today, I do recall freedom in my childhood,
I weep alone for the children of summer.
To be heard
By her magic symphony
I am the audience
She the mystery
Oh, to know the many
Value of this body of mystique
The waves lapping shoreline
Only to be heard.
I wonder the soul
She keeps in quiet harmony,
The many lives, the sea men
Leaving wives and children home
Would we the living
Ever really understand
Why such stark reality
Beckons her command.
On occasion my passion
Would be the horizon
By which nature’s remedy
Harmonize sweet melody.
A familiar air,
cloudless sky,
Listen to the sounds of a backyard,
tree trimmers, grass cutters, BBQ-ing neighbors,
listen to the children with innocent screams nearby.
He would understand,
their natural allegiance to the land
around them being an open playground,
his own did the same,
decades earlier,
on similar days,
a cloudless sky,
the sounds of summer daze.
Yet there is a familiar air,
perhaps we call it the resistance,
we felt it when twelve years old looking out the picture window,
a light rain, yet friends gathering,
and him,
staying inside,
pretending to not exist,
though experiencing all of the psychological trauma,
that associates our lives with the living.
He would find himself in that place again,
today,
while the world outside embraced the summer skies,
his mind in a fog,
wondering about time, wondering where,
curious just why he falls into this mental cavern of
indecision,
it is the time he remembers as a boy,
wondering in the moment,
not knowing beyond the day,
yet now, in the quiet midnight,
the same question remains.
Sweet summer sounds begin night’s revelry
We gather newly, friends of every
walk of life distant paths did create
a journey that brings us here to this date.
Scan sure across the lawn and see each new
smile, response, laughter suggests we all knew
one another in time, another place
when life moved fast, our hearts barely at pace.
Visions complete alluring escapade
her eyes appear, are met by shadowed shade
A sudden stir captures the minions,
sweet elegance presents your white linens
I can only watch your beauty in grace
while everyone near, forgets our embrace.
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.
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.
