Love Before

A preacher’s hands, faded from dust and copper.

An orator’s trade loud with the sounds of rustling hearts.

Let you love now…

For you knew not love before.

And, imageedit_6_5466770984

If you love now.

Love,

love,

some more.”

“For love is never doomed to be mourned.”

 

Term – W.S. Merwin

TERM

At last minute a word is waiting

not heard that way before and not to be repeated or ever be remembered

one that always had been a household word

used in speaking of the ordinary everyday recurrences of living

not newly chosen or long considered

or a matter for comment afterward

who would have thought it was the one

saying itself from the beginning through

all its uses and circumstances to utter at last that meaning of its own

for which it had long been the only word

though it seems now that any word would do

w.s. merwin 1927-2019/R.I.P.

 

Plastic Nation

On the turf, a coconut Slush puppy.

Receding from any new insults.

Melting with no specific rhythm…no sound.

Leaving in its aftermath…

100_1470summer’s last attempt of spreading debris at the base of a hump back tree.

Plastic Nation…this is it.

This is what we die for.

More, more, more.

 

Where Will Your Plastic Trash Go Now That China Doesn’t Want It?

 

 

I Am Kept

 

In Mother’s Nature…

She keeps me gentle

She keeps me sapient

She keeps me legitimate

She keeps me with timeless tests

She keeps me with flesh

She keeps me with dignity

She keeps me shady

She keeps me with chemistry

She keeps me with fragile, breakable reverie

She keeps me

And, I am kept.

she keeps me 4

 

…a most indulgent mother, has placed her best gifts out in the open, like air, water and the earth itself; vain and unprofitable things she has hidden away in remote places.
##Thomas More

 

 

Last Fall’s Harvest

Placing a lid on every little thing –

Had this been what I have been waiting for?

Tans and brown…earth’s tone… in a tussle with last fall’s harvest…blowing, blowing, away.

Rock bed thirsty for nourishment’s flow.

god’s Third Eye could not see the creation that I hear.

Swallows and finches all singing for their pride.imageedit_8_7750910572-e1552588018535.jpg

Fringe elements at play when spring and winter collide.

To steal away from our barns…untended?

To tuck away the surface of things?

To forsake seasons in the midst of battle?

Only a January joke.

barn 1