The Bench by the Home

He sat upon the bench beside the home reading his paper every day, or mounded both his hands upon his cane looking lithely out upon the field. And sometimes, when I came that way he called me by my name. And every time my path would wind that way I saw him sitting there. While […]

September

It is the smell of leaves and the sound of crickets and the brush of wind. . It is the sunshine, tilted like a ramp into the sky. . It is the clear, crisp edges of the world washed clean with the rain. . It is the stillness under drifting leaves calling us to rest.

Varin’s Seat

Have you heard of Varin’s seat, have you heard the music bare, have you heard the salt spray songs that steel your soul in life-ish dare? – It comes on swells from Over-yon it comes in dales of aqua wave it comes all tinged in bronzish flame— the fire-gift the sky last gave. – Let […]

The Kavalcade

Pounding up the dusty trail wending wide o’er field and fen through dark shadow, over vale and past the realm of mortal men. Rides on high the Kavalcade the steed of desperate wild light the flash in sun-glare’s gleaming raid that whisks like shivers in the night. It gleams like shining, liquid air but wears […]

In Your Light We See Light

What is a diamond in the dark? Or a mountain meadow with no light? What is the artist’s grandest mark or the whimsy of the clouds to night? Only blackness—like the hole that swallows whole my heart and eyes, down to the soul, blank as coal, where beauty haunts in whiffs and cries. If not […]

The Stars Speak

Breath mist hangs— and whisps away. Frost grass crunches under feet. The trees point up, their ever-arrow tops aiming the sky, a tent–stretched out– of velvet blackness chill; canvas for the spark, the dot the splattered brightness lavished… a trail of shine-stream majesty flung—across the void. Worlds, and lights and sparks of sights, a thousand […]

Grey Fall Days

Grey days! When the leaves blaze from stalwart trees, then drift, drift away— soft, upon the breeze— to fall and brown and lay like dirt. On days like these, we cannot help but gaze. This is their closing hymn of praise.

Another Sunset

Time pushed us forward, and we rode the world into another sunset— another dampening of the lights, another sharpening of blue overhead, another wandering of cumulus puffs edged in liquid fire— like some breathing landscape set there long ago, waiting—just for us— today.

Cloudbreak

The sun-gold gilds the blanket clouds like golden sugar or a wave of iridescent orange-pink. Just beyond the parting grey looms gloomy, glowering as night slowly treads the path retreat away from morning light. Now a burst of gold dust-glow breaks inside the clouds and showers streams of brilliance down to us below.

Mist

Swirled–a whirl of other worlds colliding with our own; a dark grey-bound white thick as fright and hovers–just beyond the reach of normal steadiness. Nature’s drunk the cup and reels about in undetermined bliss or gloom and masks the grass with fog. – – – Photo by Anton Atanasov: https://www.pexels.com