melancholia loses its voice after

the unbroken rasp of its whispers--

are stripped naked by the oppressive

vapors it possessed to temper.

lordly & nonemergent--walked thru

the walls of its mansion, into rooms

that bear the sound of drizzle.

hallways of bounding sunlight, stunted

by dense clouds.

twelve pointed hats

lower over the silver pan

of her High North reclusion.

set down.

she stir fries the vegetative

chants of a clockwork coven.

an aroma fills the forest...

the unachievable balance between

decay & delectability.

my grandad on my mother's side
was a lamplighter
so sad that these memories should die
that in some small way
helped to make me

Grateful for the blue skies
For the warmth of a day 
For soft drops of rain

For lilac buds and trees 
Dancing leaves 
For ocean waves on sandy grains. 

Grateful for what is seen 
Touched, felt 
In whispers heard

The moment that soaks in 
The little joys of life 
Midst the spinning of the world.

Grateful for wine and water
Fruit of orchards
Seasons that shed

For hands that help 
Eyes that speak 
With words unsaid.

Grateful for those who love 
For the wind behind
Feathered wings

For angels that twinkle 
Through the stars 
And the light they bring.

Grateful for kindness 
Tenderness 
Hugs in gentle embrace

Grateful for smiles 
That come my way 
That my fingers love to trace.

Grateful for rays of hope 
That fill a cup 
Then glimmer on the rip

Grateful for you 
And the quiet presences 
For the gift of life and Him.

I witness the cruelty
I feel the beauty
what hurts me is
I'll never know
if you see it too
I hope you understand
how much I miss you
a life stolen from us
by the everyday events
that separate the way
we want to go
it feels as though we steal
the daylight we share sometimes
an almost guilty pleasure
not something we should
have a right to