Moody, these December skies
brooding chill interrupted
by sun’s sudden emergence

To hibernate, or brace
the wind; stiffen protectively
or inhale invigoration

Caution guides my steps
intimate with wintry passages
acknowledging that I am December…

(Image my own)


Heron’s wings span six-feet wide
great grey appendages in rhythmic flight

Dragonfly wings are camouflaged,
propel elongated bodies who hover in sight

Monarch’s wings are stained-glass delicate
with each flutter, sprinkle fantasies of delight

My wings, imaginary, give me faith and hope
mechanisms of spirituality, my soul’s fire ignite.

(Image mine)

Of Light

There is light in unknowns –
at least I project it there –
caught between the current
ashen landscape and the achings
of a solitary childhood…

I like to think faith guides me
but she is muted like the gardens
of my dreams, more ethereal
than palpable and I need concrete
have waited too long for that train

of certainty to carry me away…
course it never comes, there is no easy
just a slow, steady plodding: a pace
that age has settled on; so I turn
to inner landscapes, imagination
remembering colour…and yes, light.

(Image my own creation)

No Idea!

Girls are lucky:
just need to find the right man –
looked after for life.
Advice from a teenaged brother.

Right! I yell back,
fifty years later.
It was all a vacation –
raising the children on my own
looking for God in the midst of chaos
partners with wandering eyes
or absent…always absent…
still waiting for that “looking after”

And how did you make out, Dear Brother?
Oh, that’s right…married…
woman with a good job
willing to let you putter in the background

Guess we were both misled.

(No Idea! first appeared here November 2020. Image my own.)