this morning’s noises echo
facts of summertime dwindling.
a crow’s call to advance
spur last night’s crickets,
still rubbing within the window well.
my heart swells with hope
which confuses me,
and the neighbor lady sweeps her deck.

this morning’s noises echo
facts of summertime dwindling.
a crow’s call to advance
spur last night’s crickets,
still rubbing within the window well.
my heart swells with hope
which confuses me,
and the neighbor lady sweeps her deck.
…we grow into who we’ve always wanted to be – my hope.
A favorite of mine. A good reminder today, as well.
powdered sugar spring
covering sprouts emerging
blanketed with hope
if bound
she is, because
she wants to be. Or
is she just that afraid
of abandonment, again.
Your effort to espy,
Offered in devotion.
As if creating her,
To be yours,
You choose each breath,
Affectionately.
Describing her worth,
Expressing the beauty,
She fails to presume,
However, you prove,
Consistently,
With inevitable care.
She’ll feel you,
Prepare in coy,
Wearing soft lilac,
Freely.
Her hint of blush,
Amplified for you, always.