WinterSoul
*
Mornings infused with autumn now,
vestiges of night cling damply
in dawn -light glow...
... birdsong echoes in hollow rings
through thin pale mist
curling down the ever-green hills...
*
Just beyond her kitchen window
a tree fern stands
like a one legged triffid
thick moss adorns his southern side
- still damp with early morning dew...
*
Strange days, she thought
- sweeping rain
heavy showers
scattered sun
gusting winds
- four seasons in one...

The old truck grinds to a slow stop
as the eastern sky's stars begin to fade.
An old man exits, no hair on top
a scant hundred yards from a small glade.

Back straightens out with a few groans.
He shoulders his rifle, grasps walking stick
starts down woods road which a friend owns.
slowly, quietly that's the trick.

Before too long he's at the blind
built a mere eight feet off the ground
a few years back when he didn't mind
how climbing made his old heart pound.

Today is someone's
birthday
a gift of a poem
of his today

Glory and Grief
are relatives

Two of my poetry fans
and mentors
passed away in sleep
but I don't weep

Glory and Gory
have short lives only
I too will
a part of history be

Soon
fading
Until such time
Abide with me

In the garden of shrubs
where birds and insects gathers
In search of the rose that glitters
when a sun rise
it rises with a sunflower
which dances sheen for the sun
till it sleeps off.

An eagle is sitting with a shiny moon
when the skies plays
and when joy glimmers like a cluster
I will delightful sing a flourish melody
the appeal of my soul.

When foxes are crowded
I sight a blessing
(For who ever found love found life)
And I sigh with a bleeding heart for love.

Blink, Alice Wakefield, Blink

It's time for you to wake up.

In the castle of my dreams
Where you are my king
I loved you with all my might
Alone again tonight!

She felt her body with
blind fingers. ....
.... feeling the hard curves and
shriveled bones of an old woman -
When did she get old?
Crone-like... crow-like.... desiccated feathers dried to leather;

She felt body with
blind fingers. .... Self-examination before
'selfies' became
a zen-ful form of self - evaluation. ...

one in the 879 episode...,
polish the fence
to the Amish rent
episode in how I seek
parade in the pierce so deep
an ear full an eye so dull
onto the mint episode
Writer as ther poet saving space...
kiss my lips there tender smith
their spark within clean cut with out
lot to behold onto a different episode
Twin midgets to expose
Carnal words to create,
turn on the switch
lerap to charm the rice will float
203 879 2238..,
seerk soalce to a nearby chin