Winter

Winter holds its breath this year
Though not delicately so
The grass lies matted and wilted
Smothered in leafy remains and fallen twigs
The rains come and the wind blows
And the skies are gray and cloudy all day
But the snow is shy though rumors fly
That winter is surely on its way.
But this is just as I would like it to be
As my aging back would be aching otherwise
For to shovel a path and clear my drive
So my independent wanderings are facilitated
Is beyond my strength, and I would watch
From the warmth of my sun room
As the snow would drift into a wall
Between me and the rest of the world.

Gifts

You are my gift:
Each breath you take
A blessing of color, serenity and joy
The Life, the Light, that honors my soul
Each kindness, the heart endearing more
The lilt of your voice, a tune from the angels,
Each disagreement the sign of a brilliant mind.
How perfect the heavenly treasure to bring you
Into my life conjoined by destiny.
What great dessert in fashioning a future
My hand held out to keep us both warm
Right, left, fore and back, above, below forever
Sealed and protected for seven by seven generations
My beloved ones, my gifts, now and evermore.

Couples

Dancing through a dream of stars
Sending shards of colored lights
Through the heavens to here and to there
Lifting a glass of nectar that overflows
With the Spirit to gain Life, Love,
And swirling like the Milky Way
The eternal essence of mind, vision,
Creates the fire, the passion that transcends all
And recalls that first moment of breath
When Adam stirred and beheld Eve
Such perfect halves, mirrors that began
The notion of soul mates, couples for all time.

Adrift

First snow this year was premature
It stayed but hours and then went its way
And today we are gifted with some that stays
The cold more promising, more resilient.
But I am not fond of this time of year
The wheel of the seasons coming to its end
The grayness of days washing into their brevity
And blankets of snow to be scooped out of the way.
Rather the coolness of autumn awake with color
A perpetual rainbow before the leaves lay dead
But I defer to the Creator who bore such wisdom
As to weave the months and the weather just so.
Were each day the same we would entangled be,
Adrift in boredom with nothing to scratch on the page.

The Cost

Seconds ticking on the clock
Heartbeats throbbing, cradles rock,
Truth be told we hold such stock
And fumble under key and lock.
Ingenuity breeds contempt
Of peers who think that they’re exempt
Where they’ve been they shall repent
For none of us is heaven sent.
But yet we wait, we watch the time
Burning away, is it sublime?
At the microwave, the stoplight, the grocery line
Our patience fumes, of course, does mine?
Eager to impress we dress just so
Wanting to climb the ladder by who we know
Making more money we jump to and fro
Through the hoops, until we tie it with a bow.
And make it a present for the ones we love
Breaking their hearts by our absence above.
We may never recover what we’ve lost
Our health, life, love—these are the cost.

Family of Man

My family is mismatched
All of different colors and faiths
With tempers calm and tempers flared
And consternation on each face
Because we cannot seem to get along
The power each one has
Would be a weapon to enforce his will
To stake his claim to truth and right
But how do we know that truth is truth?
Does it shine with greater brightness?
How do we know who is right?
Listening to the rhetoric one cannot say
But beneath it all is a cry of the heart
So dimly lit, ‘tis hard to see
And this one from a child’s voice comes
To live in joy and harmony.

Help Just One

I don’t know all there is to know
I’d never say I did
For there are mysteries beyond the ken
Of imagining mortal men.
But what I know, I put to use
With the hope to do some good
And brighten someone’s lonely heart
This is my thought to do my part.
Then if you find within my words
Something you can put to use
I’ll have done my deed as day is done
And by design, I’ll help just one.

Keeping Love at Bay

Words in time, thoughts in rhyme
The poet patron writes in sign
Wandering where the pen dictates
Swashbuckling, adventure-mongering with the Fates
Painting a picture delightful to see
Alone in his mind, wherever he wants to be.
Inhaling as much sunlight when it’s there
Studying his surroundings, others unaware
But though words on the page are magnificent
Conversation finds those same words spent
Perhaps never to connect behind the mask
Reaching out in mental pictures his only task
The poet’s heart is driven in its own way
Touching, yet not touched, keeping love at bay.