Tomorrow from the Trees

Fast and current the muddied water

a flutter by,

a brown cardinal,

singing, heroically from a petrified tree.

Tomorrow will not be there for me.

Tomorrow will not be there for me.

In the dance of a well tuned song,

the grackle,

the squirrel,

in fury,

sing,

Tomorrow will not be here for me.

Tomorrow I will not sing to thee.

Ivory is the Coast

How is to be different…more than just an accolade?

A prototype to the wants in needs of those willing to place us on bended knee.

Who, black, female, yellow, brown or in differential love….

Who among us fall for the cross on the wall…

all awaiting the perfect sign…on the perfect stall.

Alabaster is the night that shines on Iron clad…ivory coasts.

The look of the lookers seeking some sight all from beaches that offer wings with no kite.

A Question for Nature

I wonder what nature sees of me…when pretending not to be?

Does she see me as a threat to her luminosity?

Do the robins nest further up a shady pine?

Is my manner of awe and unsure footing a hindrance to her placating design?

As my oar settles into her complacently, mysterious, waters…does she sense that my intentions…are unkind?

One foot after another, I go back to her response.

The whistle through broken limbs and the frigteningly, gothic music that descends.

If there be admiration, it is one sided.

In nature’s woods…it is just pretend.

A Very Short Song Poem by Dorothy Parker

Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad-
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.

Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.

Lady, lady, never start
Conversation toward your heart