Winter Dip

 

Waves of snow

thrash sand and

rock and shells.

 

Steam rises over open water

   or is it spirit

lifting off?

 

Either way, we shiver

anticipating the frigid embrace

ahead.

Pray for Peace

 

I leave my bed unmade

my dreams unfinished

and my door open

in hopes that peace will wander in.

Faces on the TV telegraph tension.

Furrowed brows and pain-filled eyes,

these are the lucky ones. Some

already lie still and cold and sightless

amid shattered buildings.

Ukriane’s brave build defense

one bottled wick at a time

and, tongue in cheek,

offer to return starved behemoths

to their origins.

The bear roars and rears while

the weary rest in subway warrens

and pray that peace will

find them.

Hunger

I lose my mind among stacks of books and

find it amid words.

Ideas circle like cartoon stars

that follow a blow to the head.

But the impact is internal and words

swim before my eyes,

enough minnows to feed a pod of whales

or flocks, and flocks of hungry herons.

Words dart here and there.

Some form patterns.

Others go about their unfathomable ways.     

So many books.

Delicious slippery covers beneath my palms.

Paper, some rough and some smooth, meets my fingertips as I

turn pages and corners in my mind.

Black on white, meaningless to some but

sacred to me,

text flows from left to right,

top to bottom.

All pages devoured, I sigh,

sated, and pause before…

seeking more.

Bringing Blessings

 Following the steps of Scandinavian foremothers

I scatter seed outside my door at Yuletide

enticing birds and good fortune for

the new year.

 

They deliver stray feathers among their blessings,

beauty, grace and energy.

When only split shells remain,

songs come drifting from the

oak, maple and birch,

birthing a sense

of peace and well-being

carrying me

‘til spring.

satyr's ball

 tiny fuzzy goat-man

four chins and hairy shoulders

shimmies as he dances and prances

mingles and mixes with vixens

and manner of wild beasties

who gorge on feasties or

finesse feats of frankness

pawing the floor and rearing

clamoring to claim the last clam

or juicy bit of ham

welcome to the fete

welcome to the ball

satyrs all

Mirror

Her direct gaze was unnerving. I saw intelligence, wile, and hunger there.

She turned her head, pointing her chin west, the sun no more than a memory in the star strewn sky, then leveled her gaze once again on me.

My body was immobile though my heart raced, running rabbit-scared within the cage of my ribs. The hair on the back of my neck rose along with ripples of gooseflesh across my arms.

In slow motion I swiveled my head east. She mirrored me. Together, we watched the full moon rise. We tipped back our heads and howled, teeth gleaming in the nocturnal light.

Bounty of the Muse

The word smith sits, smitten with stories and tall tales and poetic justice 
pen racing across lined paper striving to capture meaning in secretive lines
and squiggles containing strategically placed air holes though air is heavy
with heady concentration no constipation of thought allowed just freeform
flowing creation.