Ode to a Blank Canvas

Little grid ridges, waiting for fictional memories of painter,
Winged desire realized, blunt accusation thrust,
"Click" paintbrush
lowered
Flecks of light shimmer, stranded on dewy skin,
Blank, free to write upon the memory space
Rickety stool, extension of self,
Paintbrush
Slide over canvas, mandarin orange , flower,
Heart
Lonely organ, empty , sad truth,
All gone
only
blank
s c e n e

Beckoning The Rain

Bow to the fair West, Water will come,
Do you hear wind a blowing?
Air has heard,
Do you feel ground opening?
Earth is prepared,
Do you feel the cold?
Fire has subsided,
Water is coming,

Others wait in silence,
Energy full of pleas and blessings fly from groups,
Water is coming,
Those who listen hear a rumble,
Their hair and robes plaster to moist skin

Water has come, and some wish it to stop,
But not those that know Earth,
For roots rejoice,

We hear them

Salt Flat Sally

Sally forth onto refracted light,

Waiting, watching,

hunting for treasure,

Fins in front of us,

Move closer, pale mass under boat,

Dolphins come to play,

Mama and I go over the gate,

over the "No Go Past" sign and onto the free hull,

Kin to mast head

dolphins surround the boat,

Hand in water,

She is petting a glossy skinned body

The dolphins like her, they are waving ,talking to us, chirping

Then, a little dolphin launches away from water,

Framed aganist the sun,

Kind faces drift away, and we sally on,

Following fins.

Heavens' View

White fence and calico cat, black pen on parchment,

Swing set rocking, cement, no time,

Leaves lift and tumble,

Brusque foliage, red orange on green needles,

Auction off emotion, buy back hollow compliments

Land divided into units of measure,

The sky belongs to none,

Birds are free until they land,

Freedom, not something, but the lack of something,

No constraints

The Vestments of Fall

Sweaters in the morning, less in afternoon,

Frosty start , blazing middle, chilly old end

The leaves once so fertile, now begin to fall,

Dead souls roam the map, visiting nostalgia,

Cornucopia spills, lives mix, a pie batter, amongst the waxy apples

Animals scrounge for food and a burrow,

For they know that winter comes,

We, those that heat from the luminescent glow of plastic,

We do not feel as they feel,

The Earth breathes, and some sense,

The leaves drift from their once so high homes, and some watch

Take delight in the color, the depth,

Smooth the succulent squash, and taste its yellow