Conscientious Observer

I walk a foreboding country lane, as a conscientious observer.

The mystery of souls looming ever so close.

Behind moss capped tree trunks


snuggled beneath peeled birch bark.

A party of three, the dogs and I.

Interpret nothing…only stillness catches our eye.

To capture moments such as these; an attempt to recall a dream.

And, though the harvest is sweet…

to come back daily, my only sense of relief.

Still…I Remain


When will be the last time you fetch me?

Awaken me from my shallow slumber?

As though, you were a long and lost…lover!

Enriched are your flickering seconds.

Casting spells on all who wander.

All who wonder.

If I were more articulate…

A sketch much more fitting.

for  your golden cornstalk maze.

But I am only a fool entrapped by the human haze.

An imp…

With notable limp.

No matter!

Just for this moment.

Still I remain.


I remain.imageedit_5_9314099766

Yesterday’s Raven

It all seems as if the happening…just began yesterday.

Velcro’ d lifelines that came unhinged.

It is in the manner in which, strangers stare.

As if, they are aware time has been unfair.


There had been a raven visiting in a calm before the storm.

Turning over the moments in the pleasure of flight.

Possibly in search of something he may have lost.

His bravado unaware of the upcoming spring frost.



such as an ice barge in a swollen river.

Nothing in life compares to…forgetfulness and getting on with the living.

Recollection can be a great…misgiving.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. Poe/the Raven

Recollection can be a great…misgiving.