Persuasion

glows does the moon
beyond the branches, which held verdant prisms of summertime,
rich with thoughts of what could be come daylight.

a star just to the north points towards a path I’m unsure of
but regrettably stare into,
the cold air touches the tears I shed for the prayers I’ve said,
nothing makes sense as the fairytale ends.

night, oh night, you shout at me so,
what shall come of my young soul; trapped in a body at the peak of her age
clouds bustle by, such hurry
I ponder what awaits
just past the horizon of a foolish wish, held back by this garden gate.

If You’ll Allow It

You can hear the sound of this machine working
– you know you can –
if you’re as old as me,
and grew up in a small Midwestern town,
she was an occasional reality.
We heard about newfangled ways of serving others,
but what we had was good enough.
We understood how to fix her, simple trial and error,
no fuss or awkward searching – some days a little pat on the bottom, or the sweet whisper of, “come on baby” and she’d spring to life.
I smile because she was a dinosaur in the 80s,
yet we were proud.
Seems there is still plenty of good happening right here,
if you’ll allow it.

An Entire World Awaits

what is time without a watchful eye,
til color fades, we mustn’t
gray tones allow hope
say it is so, dear one.
how is it my hands feel the road and its bumps,
while tires roll atop –
proof we’ve been here before
and what a journey it was.
clouds become pillows,
for murmurs under the sheets,
and the rain in the distance
a melody I remember and
cherish, please believe.
today is full of beauty, I smirk
yet again.
passionate in the ordinary I shall remain,
and glimpses of tomorrows
shall nudge me forward,
across the plains.

This Night

as our sun sets I reach for you
a hint please, if even this exists.
why would I question
your strength surrounds me
the wind becomes your touch
the geese flying behind me
speak the words I long to hear
yet, in a language
I cannot understand.
my eyes settle on tangerine hues
as my world settles in
for the night.
I sigh good evening, my love,
where have you been and where shall we go?

If …

if you played the guitar, I’d listen
watch your fingers sort the notes
classic bass tones mutter,
they’re the ones I love the most

if painting was your passion
topography comes to mind
blues depicting life in detail
I’d sit pretty within the sky line

if the voyage across the seas
called you away; waking the beast inside
use your mind, I’d plea
wouldn’t be like you to hide

if photography was your passion
and you found me teary-eyed in wonder
nature hook’d a poetess of attraction
and to know her is to love her

With Change

when gathering
for granddad’s funeral
no one’s vehicle tires turned into the yard similarly.
even gravel sounded different as folks drove in and chose a place to park.
the earth where his brown Ford pickup had been parked for nearly 70 years
– until Uncle drove it away –
had grass growing again,
but had for nearly fifteen years, I suppose.
I wonder if I’m the only one
who noticed. I never asked.

Spirit of the Day

the concern within my eyes –
twilight assumes as its own,
my faith breathes.
gone is nearly today, as dust billows
life continues, work sets the pace
the echoes of yesterday
further behind, as tomorrow
eagery awaits.
Cicadas joyful within the trees,
remembering to honor those
before the sun sets,
pups howl against the breeze.
Light, use your glow,
dusk determines goodnight –
we’ll pause – alongside the tea kettle.
The future, only God knows, yet I whisper ideas as
the spirit of the day settles.