Crest absorbs warm rain
Lone bird soaking on a branch
Watery warbles
© Chagall 2016
Tag Archive: Gaia
The night is crisp, autumnal.
Bourbon sweeter.
My son and his petite amie
at a friend’s cabin while they’re away.
With them, a bag of sweet potatoes
I grew and cured, for roasting
over the wood fire they’ll make.
Life is good.
Peepers sing earlier
than usual tonight. Harmonics from breezes
to trees to shape the glass arc of our ears
to blow gently in them.
I am yellow aged orange inflamed
dared to go red before withering.
I pray to the last gold ray of sun
there in the tall eastern trees
that refuses to say die to another day.
© Chagall 2016
The bug in the berry was
surprisingly deliciously
salty.
© Chagall 2016
Maybe just nature
More than anything demands
Love, respect, our fear
© Chagall 2016
see
ghosts flee
these fields
lavender
notwithstanding
hear the elders
spoke
words melt
ignorant wisps
away
I am yet
not fulfilled
here this place
unknown
© Chagall 2016
From what,
for whom,
until when,
do all these
planets spin?
There below
on the dark side,
see them – aren’t those
lights?
We no longer
pay attention
nor pray
for those who
destroy the
blue pearl
Chagall 2016
On Mercury
its day is
longer than
its year
It’s all
about spin
the path
your journey
Chagall 2016
Some have laughed
though Inuits espy
the sun doesn’t rise
where it used to
They claim
polar bears
are burning
Through the center
we point now
to different stars
(a more distant spot
in heaven)
They can
no longer
say if tomorrow
will rain
Chagall 2016
I cherished
those youngest days
so lush, wet with life,
implicate order and hope.
Chagall 2015
How I cherished those youngest days
so lush, wet with life,
implicate order and hope.
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 