i see today,
the first glimmering
of summer,
in the curl of green nails,
on the deadman fingers
of the frangipani.

i see today,
the last sighs of winter
in the dessicatted, crumbling, leaves being,
blown ever which way
by the gusting, September winds.

i see today spring,
coming up,
in shoots of green,
sprung from the rain softened soil.
all different hues,
of potential and expectation
rising from the ground.

i see today, the the last glimpse of autumn,
in that pallette of a leaf,
stubborn throughout the winter now finally,
come to grief and floating, serene in silent submission, on the pond of koi.
the oranges and browns
blending into the watered background.

i see today,
all the seasons,
in the sky
and all around me,
time moves forward
and every moment,
counted as precious
and noted by this poets eye...

Intense eyes, a majestic eagle,
                 circling high, is the air she carries,
a samba dancer luscious, who strikes
                    blow after blow with her belly button,
central stage always is hers
                   a bird of pray elegant on the look out,
the heightened awareness from
                   a sense of clear danger present,
is the reward she assures,
                 to him every minute for being her escort.



Rub her right, rub her wrong,
                      find what it would bring was his itch
the eagle woman conceals nothing,
                     keeps her eyes keen, wide open,
her mind a radar, focused on
                    what is to happen the moment next,
from mid air like a missile she swoops down,
                    stand still for a moment and then strikes,
she is on her prey, but he has
                      slipped away, at the precise moment.




Both are in awe of each other, but smiles,
       on the dance floor they are glued to each other,
he now plans a daring plot,
                 named "The sword of Damocles"
she is of two minds, love this game,
                    finds him fitting the bill,
yet the bird of prey awaits time for the next raid
                        "He is made of dainty stuff".

There is a motionless tree
there is another that moves forward
                a river of trees
pounds at my chest
                The green swell
of good fortune

You are dressed in red
                you are
the seal of the burning year
carnal firebrand
                star of fruit
I eat the sun in you

                The hour rests
on a chasm of clarities

The birds are a handful of shadows
their beaks build the night
their wings sustain the day

Rooted at the light's peak
between stability and vertigo
                you are
        the diaphanous balance.