This Sunday Afternoon

The sky bright
Through many clouds
Moving quickly
Above the trees
Sunlight caressed
By the wind

A first thought this early morn 

A gentle breeze blows 

Branches scrape against my house 

This brusque goose-like cry

Startles me abruptly 

Poetry’s Power 

Once I was told
Poetry’s power
Comes from framing
Life so uniquely
That people see
Truths they’re hiding from

Experimenting with using the graphic to separate my prose from the poem.  What do you think?

A Haiku As I Listen To Satie 

Listening to Satie
These binary colored keys
Dancing summer light 

I always envision ImImpressionistic artists as I Lilisten to Satie. Just seems so perfect. Like Bach in cathedrals. 

A Rainy Evening Haiku

Moonlight hides from me 

Behind the rain laden clouds 

Spots on my glasses 

Germs are in control 

Germs are in control
Obediently I sleep
Rest eluding me 


Ah, fighting germs again. A slow lingering cough my main symptom, a long with my lack of energy. 

My Journals, My Heart

It pains me
Envisioning my journals
Beloved words capturing my soul
Mouldering in my absence
As I fade to dust