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I watch as you
Tenderly create and
Connect the delicate
Strands,
Symmetrical, fragile,
Devious.
Strung between the
Waving stems of grass
Lives the clash
Of innocence and cunning
You need to survive.
I am but an observer,
A frequent visitor in your
World of intrigue.
As night winds wake me
With their force and fortitude,
I wonder if your
Web will persist,
And your survival
With it.

To know you
I must know
Your fears,
The ghosts
And misunderstandings
That keep you
Inside yourself.
The crack of daylight
Through the window
Shades provides
A glimpse,
A sliver of
You which
Is unknown
And vulnerable.
Turn it over
In your hands,
Feel its contours
And sense its
Shadows,
Then set it free.

The message was whispered
Through the trees,
A gathering in mid-field
In the darkness.
The sun pulled the daylight
Across a sky filled
With anticipation.
Rose, scarlet and apricot
Still bleed in the
Western sky as
Fireflies skirt
The margin of grasses,
Lumiating the rustling
Movement toward the
Onset of summer.
A gentle murmur
Sighs into the
Season,
Beginning the
Slow slide to
Another of darkness.

Weed whipping isn’t on
The Fitbit list.
It doesn’t seem to
Fit the genteel
Title of ‘gardening’.
Missing also is losing
A mother, or daughter,
Or brother,
The rug-pulled-out-from-under-me
Exhaustion of loss.
What becomes of the living
That doesn’t fit the list
Of ‘work outs’ logged
Or tracked,
Tallied and measured?
Being young allows us
To box almost everything,
The curve balls of life
Only addling those
Of advancing age
And experience.
Keep moving and
Dancing,
The world around you
Will adapt or not,
We will be
Steadfast.

If random has a pattern,
It is rain on the roof.
The crescendo of gusty wind
Ends this verse,
Merging into the chorus
With a heartfelt
Sigh.
Underneath the brass
Of thunder,
I can hear the flowers
Humming their
Arpeggios,
Swaying like a
Prayer in the light
Of early morning.

I stopped looking
For you,
And looked for me instead.
It wasn’t a leaving,
But a staying,
Not a wandering,
But a rumination.
The long, slow days
Of summer spent
Watching, not searching.
My solitary viewpoint
Yielded interior
Bounty I had not known.
Across the field
I saw you resting too,
And realized that
To find you I only
Needed to
Stand sill
And listen.

The calling carries miles,
A hailing through the
Darkness that
Speaks of searching
And longing.
Time has measured
Gently,
The softness of
The evening light
Kindly marks its passing.
To smile at you
Through the dusk
Lifts the day into
Night,
Carries the moment
Near to the moon,
Stilling the longing
And making life
Whole.

The long-awaited
Warmth has arrived,
Sweet and sticky,
The cotton candy
Of summer.
Languid days lounging
Through the afternoon,
Stretching enough
To prepare for the
Next chapter.
Searching the sky
Yields no clues
To what might come
Next,
We are left to
Bask in the present.

The sun fills
The gap with new light,
Rosy and round
And ancient.
You walk into the
World unblemished,
Bare and shiny.
Between the horizons,
You gather the pieces,
Large and small,
All the stuff
That becomes who you
Are.
You fill your gaps,
Leaping across experience
And knowing with
Guesses and assumptions.
All of the unraveling
Needed to become
Bare again,
Rosy and ancient,
Is put on the back burner.
The far horizon
Inches ever closer,
And time is running
Out.

Chlorophyll is back,
The riotous,
exuberant green of
Summer,
Intense,
Varied,
And committed.
Leaves of every size
And shape capture
My eye,
Intricate,
Fragile,
And perfect.
Even the frost
Of early morning
Bows to the inevitable
Banquet,
This beauty that
Feeds our
Souls.