The Hunt


By grace balanced above the stream
fierce fascinated men to be
gazeing into the rippled scene
toward speckled ichthyology.

A falling branch, abandoned string
their exclamations of delight
fulfilled without an injury
to speckled fins in failing light.

Until from out the diamond frame
their eyes are turned to marsh and trail
lest they be stalked if they remain
where twilights mystery may impale.

Now almost men-of-war wood-slash
so spectered shadows can’t prevail
the stream flows safely through the night
while unscarred innocence remains.

Martin Had a Dream

Martin had a dream of inclusion and equity
Perhaps I am having one now, I hope so.
The country is closed for argument with only a few figures in the spotlight heard.

The first black president stands quietly
facing the window in the Oval Office.

I who saw the clan when I was young
felt the invisible but powerful healing

transforming our country when he was elected.

The law protects him against the
So they call him a Moslem instead,

the newest profanity of small gods,
and give animated testimony

about his plot for America’s destruction.

There are foxes manipulating the news.

Elephants, fearful, maddened by pain,
trumpet protest of their vanishing world,

stampede, In an effort to eradicate
the emergent and unique beginnings
of the one that follows.

I do not know the words that run through his mind
But, if we have anything in common
I would understand exhaustion and despair,

The ragged edges of persistent determination,
and seemingly endless grief.

The frosting coats the drive it has cracked,

crêpe paper wrinkles in the wet fall air

the balloons, losing helium, hang lifeless on their strings

reaching for the floor.

I wonder if he also fears
that we will never celebrate equality


A Tear and a Smile ( first edit)


The late summer days are the color of honey.
The touch of their light always stops me in time.
Like sepia pictures of the heart of forever,
The amber touched memories of my moments in time.

Walking this dirt road thats hardened by travel
where wagons with horses and tractors have run,
the few cars I see have no patience to linger,
and leave me in silence with the late summer hum.

Here in my home entwined within silence,
A melody to which I sleep and I wake
Where all of my moments are as short as a lifetime,
And light full of Amber unill winter breaks.

The days that move by me so quickly grow weeks
as I stroll through the silence picking blossoms of weeds
the blossoms of wildflowers that bloom only in silence,
away from the barren black ribbons of streets.

at night I read stories finding worlds I can wander
Staying too long reluctant to put them away
Then I rise for espresso that I make in the machine
I bought for five dollars on a rummage sale day.

It may sound kind of quiet to those that don’t know me
Never seeing me walk by with the light in my eye
A soldier a pirate a prophet a peasant,
riding tall waves of feeling in golden fall light.

I was born just to ride these, wild, untamed, and unruly,
they gather around me and wash my heart clean, 
It all feels so simple and so free between worries
the choice to live safely or stay forever free.

An open heart blends in the collage of amber
that glows in my memory from year unto year,
the sunflower fields and the mums brighten dooryards,
these familiar companions are forever dear.

then someone in passing will stop for a while,
their wind burnished faces reflect sweet October light,
lifetime companions I’ll forever treasure
who stopped in for the sharing of a tear and a smile.