Sunday, August 28, 2016


For too long, corn stands rose too tall, 
too enclosing, smalling my surroundings 
into soft fears.

Only, now the embrace of their tall shadows 
give a calm comfort as might the arms of 
a new lover.

So, standing under deepening aqua skies, 
by the quiet rustle of this phalanx of 
green limbed sentinels,

I accept the affection I am given, friends, 
others, hold it close as a gift and 
bid it welcome.

Sunday, August 21, 2016


It's four in the morning, 
the moon is long gone.
Wrapped in an old robe,
I’m waiting for meteors.
They streak over in pauses, 
like slow uneven breathing.   

A few lone lights steady along.
Who flies at this hour?

A good breeze rustles 
high in corn stalks,
much taller than you.
Was a time I believed only 
such a strong wind could breath 
air back into my lungs, as if

I'd forgotten how.
That’s not really true.

The milky way shimmers, 
As a cat nudges my ankles, 
A soft ghostly touch, 
I do not assume it is so.
And anticipating these showers, 
That’s not really what woke me