Tales from the edge of the morning sky

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(May) the Fête 

Under blue skies 

the people throng,

youth 

of all ages

and stages,

in waves 

and tides 

of color, 

frivolity,

novelty 

and fun,

for with the heat

of spring,

each tide 

of generations

to come, 

are the colors 

of life,

this carnival 

together, 

processions,

possessions,

obsessions, 

all arm 

in arm

through wonder

through light,

and from 

the afternoon

to dusk,

to seduction

of senses,

of childhood

into 

the darkness, 

the fireworks 

of night,

you can hear 

the rides,

the shows,

a kaleidoscope

of laughter,

the screams

of joy, 

the thrill 

of forgetfulness,

the moments 

of happiness, 

this circus 

of the senses,

of May

and becoming,

and delight.

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The Heart of Morning

Every time 

I step outside, 

to hear 

the cicadas, 

the last 

of the blackbirds 

before the evening’s 

dusk 

and sleep, 

I look west 

beyond the skies, 

the last 

of twilight 

the dreams 

of stars 

and life 

to keep, 

for dawn will come 

to rise again, 

the night to pass

the day to be 

born in wonder 

and blossom 

when 

the beauty of you,

the heart of morning,

to live and wake,

again to see.

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(May it) Rain

Rain, 

grey skies, 

clouds 

of darkness, 

journeying

into the fall 

of night, 

thinking 

of hidden stars, 

of morning, 

dawn, 

and sunlight, 

For I’m racing

between 

the shadows, 

homeward 

bound, 

dreaming 

of daylight 

a flower, 

a gift of time, 

for the beauty 

of you

is forever 

and found.

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The day after

Empty streets

full with ghosts 

lost under 

empty skies

as black clouds,

gather

the darkness,

in memories 

of evening

waiting 

to be found

for it’s still

early morning

from yesterday

as a street car 

weaves 

between

abandoned buildings,

and automobiles parked

in fists

across the road

and as if at random 

a single crow picks 

from the trash 

it’s black eyes

mirrors back

a missing hand,

a hand that holds 

a neck

tight, against 

the falling dance

of blackening rain.

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Thunder Morning

And so she arrives

in the first 

of mornings,

the sky pressing 

to the awaiting earth,

for in the birdsong, 

the weaving choirs 

of colors, 

in the steels 

slates 

of silences,  

in the memories

hidden, 

in the shadows 

and greens 

of spring line birth,

For it is now

that the month, 

of May is born, 

Born in dreams 

of yesterdays, 

the bygone winter, 

the promise 

of April, 

the racing clouds,

the blustery winds, 

the heights 

of darkening,

the shredded skies 

split and torn. 

As it is now

in the fading, 

the shadows,

of midday blue, 

the lengthening 

hours 

of coming 

the promise 

of springtime 

and longer days 

that summer,

in Thunder 

is born anew.

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Yew,  a tree 

of time, 

stands still 

upon the hillside, 

watching the stars 

wheel and curtsy 

overhead, 

the years pass 

in seconds time, 

the hours left

in silence

and dawn

for the hangman’s 

gold instead.

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The words were like whispers in the darkness…’at first it began with not noticing,’ recalled the Watchmaker, as she was interviewed later in the memory chambers  by the Director of the Association of Values…

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…of morning

Of morning 

sitting here 

under the balcony, 

surrounded 

by memories,

of light 

and sunshine, 

dreaming 

of summer 

amidst falling songs, 

the tears 

and choirs 

and of 

morning rain.

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The dream…

The dream 

of falling, 

the skies,

slate black 

and grey 

with lingering clouds, 

trees hang, 

with colored blossom, 

running tears 

on broken windows, 

dawn to life 

to wonder, 

the coming

of May.

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At Sunset

Sunset falling, 

lights on the hill, 

shadows lengthening, 

stars in the fading dusk, 

 dreaming of you still, 

the pathway 

is dark now, 

the leaves 

of life, hidden, 

beyond the end 

of day, 

footsteps quietly 

echoing, across the

stepping stones,

since you passed 

through this way, 

for a bird is singing,

closing the evening 

beside the memory

of you

a last and silent hush,

the sun slips, 

beneath the last cloud,

fading from light

and view.

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