wait

dark wind

slip softly through the shadows

of white-washed air

stay

unseen

like ghost rain

be

unheard

like the migration of clouds

there is a meadow

of a thousand lost fireflies

that dream in my eyes

like distant stars

over moon-bright water

wait

dark wind

as crickets sing

the softest lullaby

let nightfall

cradle my evergreens

soothe my mountain soul

It's the seventh month once again
the fireworks allowed that to be known,
my thoughts turn towards my daughter
and how much my girl has grown.

Turns out she's quite the mother!
She deserves some sort of crown,
she deals with so much on her plate
rarely caught letting anyone, down.

I believe she's really happy
though, in life there's always strife;
her secret is to do what she must
to achieve a happy life.

when the sun smiles on the leaves
just so,
they build a bridge across....

what bullshit! what banality!

i wouldn't know what a soul was
or wasn't
if it bit me on the arse,
if that
and i'd probably attribute it
to the nasty neighbor's drooling dog

and all i can do is mythopoesize
as long as i'm not in the grave,
creepy crawly things in hot pursuit,
waiting for some kind of recollection.

There was a time when love was free
to make and share it had no price.
It was alright to just "be";
liberation was the only vice

But that was many wars ago
ere innocence of youth was lost.
Like old piles of dirty snow
now mortality figures in the cost.

For love can now result in death
and needles don't deliver life.
Where now the beauty which took my breath
cutting as deep as any scythe?