Leaves of Brown

To think of it as anything more…would be absurd.

Justified gifts bestowed upon the earth.

Pungent, musky, society, woven into the fabric of our lives.

Tantalizing temples of shades and hues.

A touch of the silky skin.

Wintered petals.

Disgraced leaves.

Simple mid-season delicacies…Nothing more… than it needs to be.

Antsy for Change

Shade eloping fast

I try to toss it away but it keeps coming back

I sit, transfixed, too antsy for change

For still life is a spell I am not equipped to cast

Succulent brown crab apple curls the hem of my fears

Shade eloping fast

I try to toss it away but it keeps coming back

the Rains of New Hampshire

Bleak is the air that wrestles the sun.

A live virus that beholds no one.new hampshire 2

Had I been placed here by my own accord?

Would I have forgiven the lack of warmth?

The ghost-like trees.

The moistened forever blight.

Frost covered illness and lack of ease.

How temperate wooden, woolly, sprites distract from the sensitive sway?

I watch as, freeze steals away from the morn.

Always winter and her fight.

I have tucked away the colored glasses for more than forty days…

and, forty nights.

new hampshire 1

Paper Brown

Proper paper brown.

You will have your time.

Many moments lying ahead.

For your dull shine.


Dressed in stormy camouflage.

You too will soon disperse your love.

But the vacancy sign…

Has yet to be hung.


Barefoot red is still in the yard for play.

Orange extract doused with gold hue.

She has not returned from a date with buxom blue.

Mortality begs the transformation of many.

It is often despised.

By a rusted rustic with yellow in her eyes.


Tainted Lung


There is assorted indifference to what maybe inevitable.

It has always been this way…since the broken buildings have come into view.

With tainted lung plunged deep in my throat.

Without a heart upon my sleeve,

if so, a lie for all to believe.

I am the absconded wind on winter leaf.

An adult child, too old, born too late, for a deficit disorder.

A crumpled political banner, looking for a yard.

Like a New Hampshire storm, I fall for love of disposable beings…

And, the arrest is inevitably, hard.

There is comfort in another year’s comfort.

Covered bridges and mountain spring faucets.

Or, of a lone worn chair in the forest.

Places where ravaged thoughts can take a rest.