Have     you      ever     thought
to   look   at   a    kitchen    ***?
What  are  all   the   wonderful
things it's held tender and hot?


© A. Leigh

Beyond   the    field    and    over    rugged   terrain
I see a  woman.  She   stares   back   and   then   off
into  the   distance   where   the   tree   tops    move
and  the  flowers  grip  the  earth  trying to survive.  

There  is  a  storm  closing in.  Furling, whirling
channeling    my     inner     tempest,   I   scream
warning about those who  wander on this  path
But  it  is  lost  and muted - overruled by  forces
stronger than I.

These  gusts  of  fury. They grit their teeth and teach
in  wicked ways.  And  for  a  moment,  I  look away.
I want to  harness  these  changing winds.  I  want to
capture their uncertainty and potential destructions.

I  look  ahead  for  damage,  but  the  woman is g­one
and I am alone.


© A. Leigh

Billowing with green
The brook cuts the landscape in half
I  too,  am  divided

© A. Leigh

I  loved  you  like  spring
blooming   and    full    of    flowers
sunshine   on   days  with   warmth
under  trees, cool  like  the evening
breeze, or rain sometimes for days
as  if  we  should  just   stay   inside
and cry


© A. Leigh

What are the good of words?
We  write  about  love  about
life about lust about  longing
  — yet you:

He is
the essence of a sunny day
I am speachless


© A. Leigh

.        into love
sprung      and      newly    colored
like  young   birds — surprise  fall
        suddenly
once  and  all  in  or  none  leaving
here  now  we  go  down to  go  up
        head first
breaking barriers escape into new
territory  and  oh!  these   heights !
        just let go
as  if  they  told  us  how  to   forget
it's you — jump soar, fly! I'm ready
now   everything   always  and   all
         at once


© A. Leigh

Feeling
fast, feet first
walk    in    slow
I wade water waiting
He  is  the  rocks   beneath
He  is  the   ice   cold   current
Swift,  I   am   swept  into   danger
Quickly,  I lash out  thrashing splashing
I gasp for air, respire; to keep inhaling - gulp!
it fills my lungs, gently, as if serene I begin to die.


© A. Leigh