Nightfall - time for a walk in the green
silence - the noisy day has gone to sleep
finally I am on my own - no more avoiding by zig zag runs
I take off my protection mask and a deep breath -
summer air and the scent of a freshly mowed meadow,
familiar and normal.....
In the distance a falling stars lights up
and I remember the taste of white clouds
and the sound of laughing butterflies
Everything will be alright
© Heike Borgard 08/2020
What happens to the peach when June
rolling like a playful child,
Have we reached the bottom
of the hill?
Or do we roll onward, yellowing to brown?
Riper but never sweeter—-
Bruises from the fall bring with them
Growing up and summer are so closely linked for me.
husks of air pass
the shelled yellow left in fields
lake water like a bath that once
washed worries away.
this dry that takes my throat,
I ask it to tickle my cheek,
caress my soul,
embody the years passing me by.
Be my keeper of gone days;
I will carry you in whims yet-to-be.
August 12, 2020
Time it seems has stood still
for us to admire
the purple budding flowers
and yellow leaves of Fall
or the moss-covered headstones
in the graveyard
behind a quaint clapboard
we are not at a crossroads
there are no pivotal decisions to be made
we are free
to keep spinning the wire rack
flaring the nostrils
and sometimes chewing
getting lost in the wash of Americana
Whit Howland © 2020
A word painting. An original.
I have the worst habit:
swallowing life experiences
instead of savoring them
when my teeth are clean,
thinking, “That’s it.”
And wanting ever more.
Another life transition and I’m weary of glorifying the past. Wishing the good times were all my nostalgia makes them out to be.
A whiff of You on my collar,
drifting towards the door,
in the spaces you graced.
My lungs take you in like my own cells.
You understand my distant nature,
worries, faults, evening regrets
Better than I.
Our bodies hold us at skins length.
When you leave, your scent embraces me—-
closer than a hairbreadth.