I Hear the Roar

Some mornings,
early and quiet,
with the face of the water
smooth and reflective,
I hear the roar.

Over the water,
past the barrier island,
the Gulf rumbles.
The in-land breeze rests, yet
 - something is coming.

When I hear the Gulf of Mexico
speaking up in conversation to
what drives the seas,
I know that
deep within my soul
they affect me.

But under the water
far from the waves
driven by currents,
moved by another
are
creatures
living and oblivious
to the roar.

Silent Moss

A large, 

gnarled, 

growing presence as I sat ,

in the southern swamps.

Gray dripping sameness

of

my soul

sinking in muck.

Why cry to me, you hurricane...

or tropical storm of thoughts.

It’s not ok,

.. the oaks cried -  hush!

...but I couldn’t stop screaming
that I was sinking.

The Spanish moss

swayed ever so slightly

in the wind,

and never said a word.

Draino Mountain

The mountain

…did…not…move

although I wanted it to.

The force of 

my face and heart,

couldn’t do the deed.

To vanquish the soil,

as a clog,

in life’s drain:

I was weak with no Draino,

just had Wanto - for you to go.

Wandered into the Party

At 10:00 AM you come

clean, dressed, polished up

and greet more like you –

clean as a whistle on the outside.

You have assembled looking for something in the someone who gives.

Very earnest mothers care about

the daily feeding of their

sheep children,

kept clean as a whistle on the inside.

Two door watchers survey and direct

a healthy dose of verbal affirmation

to your weekly seat.

And suddenly

the running film of your life outside

is freeze-framed

an hour or two to allow for

an injection

of something familiar to coat

the sore place on the sole of your foot

where you were running

and the blistered palm of your hand

where you were hanging

as if your life depended on it,

and it did

but you checked the week at the door

like a hat or a coat

and wandered into the party.

The Night

You slept with me
last night
(I was so glad)
you,
curled up,
not moving much.
The moment you came
and laid down
I knew your presence,
it stroked my heart
and I slept.
When I awoke
I stayed perfect-ly quiet
to keep you
from waking up to go.
Did my heart beat?
Was I breathing? - I was so still.
Slowly I rose up,
silently
on my side of
this particular bed
and without looking
at you.
I went to the day
leaving you behind
to come
and go...
in the night.

Garden Paths

Stepping stones,
garden paths,
long walks,
certain thoughts.

Resting:
garden benches -
complicit skies -
hesitant insects -
wondering why.

The Line at the Horizon

Crashing and swirling
swells - oh my soul,
queasy in gut
and throat
from
movement's chaos.
I'm looking for
the line at the horizon.
The anticipated
journey of purpose,
planned by book's light,
has turned
into night lunges.
Where is
the line at the horizon?
Exuberant youth
with half a map: no land,
a waiting search
to be,
at the line at the horizon.

Concept and Conscience

STUBBORN
RESILIENT
BATTERED
ALIVE.
WAITING
WAITED
MEANT TO SURVIVE.
CHOOSING
CHOSEN
MOSTLY THERE,
aware of the misery
yet keenly
here
to do and
to think
upon sheets white,
pen held tightly and
mostly at night.
Thoughts that struggle
can rest here,
conquests and conflicts
and
vistas to see.
Daily, hourly or so,
by varying blows
of
concept and conscience
and days of despair,
waking a world up,
rested and fair.

A Wing and a Prayer

Perched on
the bare frame of
my neighbors boathouse awning,
...used to be
before the storm,
...they sing.
I listen.
These, my companions
while I wait
to capture dots of life.
They start
on a wing
and a prayer.
I have
ground to cover
before I fly.

That Moment at Dawn

There is a moment
at dawn
when the slate is clean,
the birds sing hello,
and not goodbye,
...when the wind inhales
while you raise
your eyes
and
breathe out for it.
Thoughts sit up on the clouds
ready to stand upon
the floor of again,
which creaks with the load.

Circle Writing

Starting to write,
a bit around the edges.
Circling the subject,
carefully.
Around and around,
growing:
not to show too much,
to me or you.
And so I stop,
short of all
and
more than none.
I leave again,
somewhat undone.

A Bull Charged the Fence

A bull charged the fence
were I was
yet he stopped
on the other side of me.
My heart raced
but I stood
and stared back at the snorting.
No mistake that
the power could crush me.
Saved by the fence
that never knew me.

Meadow Speak

The meadow spoke

again this morning when
the sun arrived to visit.
A yellow speaker popped off
while
the evergreen remained seated,
as usual.
A purple statesman stood to speak
and the air stirred
with
fresh growth.
I rested upon the carpet
and smiled
that we were so well cared for.

Wind Poem

Ageless whisper,
newborn shout
through the crack in the door
as
I lay listening.
A gust more violent
than prepared for
screams through
and
I stand suddenly
but
I am frozen
for a moment
until the blast
becomes a draft
and
I return to recline
and
pull the covers over my head.

Aging

Satisfied, dissatisfied.
Knowing, wondering.
Happy, sad.

Slower, more certain.
Uncertain, concerned.

Free, and shackled.
Excited, subdued.

All around better,
but worse for the wear.

Abrupt Changes

Hurricane Ivan certainly was an abrupt change in my life. I wrote this after - obviously.

How could you have done to us what you did, salty, beautiful blue?
Why roar at your gazing lover?
Sue, who gardened by your breezes has gone.
No voices or crabbing adventures and grandchildren playing...
who knew that one day YOU would grow ENRAGED
and take it all away.
How can I love you, trust you, though you woo me daily with your calm lapping, making up to me.
Breathing your scent I can't help myself.
Lover again.

you and YOU

I thought I had you
deep in MY mind
and
grasped in MY hand.
I thought I held
and
understood YOU,
as a book
yet
YOU can not be held,
or restrained by me, or any.
What i had was MY idea of you.
When my experience taught me
much more than i held,
I had to let you go -
you, with a lower case face,
not the YOU who IS
capitals and forever.

Cover Me Sky Blue

Cover me sky blue!
Fall red, summer green.
Wash over, come into
fill the empty corners,
tuck up tight!
Let the yellow drip dripping
and the grey blend blending
creep up like ivy patterned,
cover my soul.

I See You

Sitting on the curb looking,
I see you
caring for the human traffic
moving by.
You notice the homeless,
helpless,
mindless,
humans siphoned of life.
Caring for the human traffic
you cause a swell of giving
offered to the empty man...
moved by the people wandering
and I wonder why.

My Heart is an Albatross Flying

My heart is an albatross, flying
rarely setting on ground.
Free flying,
salty,
happy,
and me.
My heart is an albatross flying.

My heart is an albatross, running.
Struggling for flight,
looking for updraft,
determined,
to be.
My heart is an albatross running.



(the photo is a Frigate Bird, no albatross in the Image Library!)