Showing posts from November, 2013


A fearful,
Tearful silence,
And all the words that bleed
From page to page
In black-and-white encryptions
Of things I couldn't say.

Golden Morning

Golden morning
Filters through
The autumn-burnished
Poplar leaves
And I,
All unexpectedly,
Am rich.


Skirting the pretentious fronts
Of mansions in a stately row,
Displaying closely shuttered eyes
That bid me 'do not enter here',
I find, at last, a lonely house,
Sitting quiet in the dark,
Shabby, yes, and very small,
But with uncurtained windows lit
To guide me in
And welcome.

Of Treasures and Treasuring

We crowned you as our
Autumn queen
With wreaths of sunlight
In your hair
And spilled our
Golden treasure hoard
Into the gingham
Of your lap.
But now you're grown
And mostly gone
And seasons change
A lonely king.
We face the winter,
Cold and bare.
Our splendor fades,
As leaf by leaf
Is left to molder
In the sod
And raindrops mingle
With our tears.