Tales from the edge of the morning sky

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New rain 

falling, 

clearing 

morning skies, 

pools 

 of blue, 

glimpses

of sunlight,

dancing

across 

the dawn,

smiling,

with her 

beautiful 

eyes.

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Midsummer rain 

the skies closed, 

from the summer stars, 

the wind whispers, 

through the spectral darkness, 

along the lanes 

and edges,

a silent procession, 

the headlights gleaming

flickering, 

and vanishing, 

the last homeward journey 

of passing cars, 

and above, 

the moon in glimpses 

rises, 

between the gathering clouds, 

mists in wraiths, 

wreathes, 

and watching, 

hide beyond the trees

and meadows, 

silent, 

sleeping, 

dreaming

meanings, 

of midsummer

hidden 

in shrouds.   

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Goodnight to the  Westward Skies

The day 

has emptied, 

the light fading 

beyond the drifting clouds that sail in ships 

across the westward

tides 

And before 

this coming night, 

of sleep, 

before I slip 

between the dreams 

of what might

have been,

I’ll open my eyes 

for one last time, 

and look beyond, 

above the crowds 

of trees, 

to the spaces

of the flickering leaves, 

and how life 

is passing 

so quickly, 

inbetween. 

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Dawn

Dawn,
thinking of you 
this evening,
the light is fading 
fast,
everything changes
with the seasons,
for only life,
and love,
shall last.

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I take my cup of coffee, 

and sit beside the window, 

and look out to the silver dance, 

the tears 

of raindrops, 

upon the window pane, 

‘for ‘tis true summer lies 

hidden, 

between the fall 

of Autumn

and the springtime leaf 

of trees, 

and between the deepening 

the shadows, 

of clouds 

and this early morning grey, 

but before my time 

is over 

I can sit here awhile 

and wonder, 

and look through the window 

of the world,  

and dream 

of you dear summer 

to live once again 

another springtime day.

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The Restless Sea

By the tide 

the riddle 

of lines, 

etched in sand

across

an empty beach,

I walk,

the sky tips 

a restless wind 

to the waves, 

to the sea

forever 

out of time,

hours 

and years:

horizons 

out of reach 

edging closer, 

ever closer 

to the emptying sea, 

for the restlessness 

of skies 

to the emptying 

life 

of me

as above, 

upon the wind, 

the clouds billow 

in great sails 

of light 

above the ships, 

edging closer, 

ever closer 

to an emptying sea, 

And with their great funnels 

and tell-tale sign

of fires 

and smoke, 

climbing

the curve

of the horizon 

with their containers 

impossibly stacked, 

like great sea castles 

of trade and commerce, 

impossibly heavy, 

sea ships sail

yet closer, 

ever closer 

to the emptying sea, 

through lines 

of buoys and sandbars 

and sandbanks, 

that mark my estuary.

And upon the shoreline, beyond the last 

of the woodlands, 

the stumps and driftwood, 

the abandoned sculptures 

of fossilized trees 

I look across 

the vastness 

of tides and time, 

the waves and the sea, 

closer, ever closer, 

the other side 

of the world 

and back, 

and sink my imagination 

in the vastness 

of sand, water 

and the changing face 

of an open sky, 

closer, 

ever closer 

to this emptying life

and sea.

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For Only

Only in the silence, 

the way 

the blackbird sings, 

above the cicadas, 

beneath 

the gathering storm 

can you hear

the deepening skies, 

that June will bring

For with 

the ragged thunder, 

her furious fists 

and fragments 

of light,

the earth 

will shatter

from the stars 

the evening moon, 

and still 

the coming dark

of this summer night.

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June

June, ohJune!

You’re arrived 

and far too soon

in three weeks

summer will

have passed

And September 

will be here 

far too fast

for the twenty first

comes, 

the longest day 

and then thereafter 

dearest June

you will,

like time 

have flown 

away!

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Time

Time, droplets

of morning,

from a weeping, 

changing sky,

‘Where did it all go?’

whispered the evening wind,

‘In silence,’ 

answered the starlight,

‘With me,’ 

said the moonlight,

‘for I follow the sun 

as you can, forever,’

as he slipped 

beyond the hilltops,

and returned 

the morning’s 

goodbye.

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They sing 

of night 

and Morning, 

the declining day,

the awakening

of dawning skies,

the first 

and last

of evening stars,

the kiss of light,

here to stay,

for upon 

the woodlands 

the color 

of life,

the smiles 

the touch 

of summer gold,

I think 

of you,

dear September 

for time passes

as you foretold. 

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