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It started as a small, inky black
speck on the horizon. 
Not threatening or ominous,
a peripheral presence 
most often passed over.
Living moved forward,
the roller coaster of
busy and not
moving toward another year.
Like a plague of locusts,
the darkening grew,
pestilence on the wing.
Heralded by a downburst,
the immense weight of
the burden spread,
blotting out the sun
and stars.
With lightening and 
thunder,
it will finally blast apart,
opening into the
infinite light
of Peace.

Small in the middle of time,
you waver between worlds,
the mutually exclusive
passages connecting
living and dead.
Watching your eyes is
a glimpse into a forever
you have been creating
since the early days
of Catholic school.
I hold you tightly to this world,
your fragile humanity wavering.
How long you can stay is a mystery
only slightly impacted by your tenacity.
Gradually you surface,
breathing in and out
in your sleep,
safe
for now.

Clouds rise in a 
glowing reflection
of a sunset tinged by smoke.
They build, flash and rumble,
drifting away to an east
brittle with dust.
Hope is hard to hold,
too graceful and light
to grasp as it moves
with the rain.
Our own dry and brittle
sighs with waning resilience 
as the sun sinks through
heat born of a mother
delinquent.
All of life is held
in the embrace of our
consequences.
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.

Beginning is fluid,
a smile in a crowded room,
a chance encounter on 
the sidewalk,
a gaze met by
open eyes.
Your leave-taking
has remained long
beyond the day
of forced emptiness.
An awkward distancing
followed by strained
explanations and
a cowardly disappearance.
What has truly transpired
is covert,
and I will always
wonder of its
truth.

It started as a small
gasp in the dark 
of night.
A long, rolling of 
thunder,
a small gust of
heavy wind.
As the smallest of
drops started to fall,
the world opened,
sighing in concert.
What had been lacking
was here,
a gift to souls 
deep in the earth,
a promise of moving 
forward with
life.

She prepares as if for 
a lover,
eye closed as
clear water cascades
through the tendrils
of Winter’s remains.
Waiting has become precarious,
teetering on a fence line,
a rollercoaster of winds
bearing southern promises.
She waits each year,
fresh and virginal,
ready to ripen in the warm sun.
In four moons,
age will have marked her for
harvest,
the drying tissue fading
with the daylight.
Such are seasons,
waxing and waning,
reminders of mortality.

Six has become four,
weary flesh coaxed 
no more,
the mysterious essence
we call life
wafting upward.
The biology is so surface,
waves on deep ocean,
the long columns of living
hidden below.
We always picked up
where we left off,
the intertwined DNA
making up for lost time.
To see you again is always
hoped for,
an intersection of history
and future filled with 
smiles and conversation.
Hold tight to each other,
stretch to touch one another,
as life is much too short.

A long breath of cold air
rattles through my lungs,
winter in the north has
run it’s ups and downs,
trending through the single
digits into territory only in the
negatives.
Postcards from the south arrive
via text and tweet,
the condolences for snow and frigid cold
somewhat pitying and raw.
To see the sun rise over the newest
of crystals creates a canvas for the 
night time dramas of survival
that brush so closely I can touch them.
It is difficult to describe,
this wild sense of edges left
as tracks in the snow.  
Another log on the fire marks
the ever advancing sunset,
and I marvel at what needs to 
be lived to be understood.

The moon has once again
kissed the rising sun,
another day rolling into the field,
quiet stillness beginning
with the low angled light.
It is easy to feel removed,
protected by distance,
sheltered by space.
Actions taken can not be undone,
life never returning to yesterday,
or the day before.
Somehow the world is different,
even here,
the lies and bravado carrying
through space,
almost like lightening.
As I traverse the frosted silence,
the images spinning in my head
refuse to leave.
What have you done?
What have we done?
What can be next?
Answers evade, 
time keeps
spinning.