CA Guilfoyle Nov 2018
Now these clouds, the cold mean greys
sideways rain, the north lands I remember.
The drowning choke of smoke and fire,
traveling the dark road to your home.
The black and spark of stars we watched
through the night before that killing dawn
before the fog, the cold that held us down.
The clinch and grasp, a slow stinging wasp.
Gone the fragrant allure and hum of bees
the honey meadow of petals,
only a fleeting summer - we gathered
now swallowed in the autumn thunder,
the bruising cold of November.
CA Guilfoyle Nov 2018
On days like this
cool, with little winds
desert birds forage for sticks
they build nests perched in cactus
some build green in palo verde trees
always I think of baby birds in spring
hatchlings, the fledglings that fly
I travel far beyond the noise of towns
watch the movement of cooling clouds
the roundness of rain upon the ground
the grey banked scurrilous skies
of hurried birds, their silhouettes before a storm
daisies that close, cold amid the stones
beneath where snakes and lizards go
slither and crawl in this landscape of saguaros
and I, ever tethered can only dream to fly.
CA Guilfoyle Nov 2018
Delicate these green wings, diaphanous moth paper
wings melded to glass, and smashed
half tattered, your sequin gown glistening.
What game, these moon magnetics,
these hot porch light dances
we live and die to play
hide and seek amid
the falling stars
and flashes.
CA Guilfoyle Nov 2018
This morning
only the memory of moon
now the windy grass is yawning
leaves are singing to the plum red sun
silhouetted birds move silently across the sky.
CA Guilfoyle Jul 2018
All day long with clouds and birds
the greens and blues moving through the water
I wish my fingers were water color crayons
to paint these scenes on leaves of paper
to capture water drops on stones, lighter, darker
the sky, the soft rain I taste
all the ways I lived this day.
In the morning to wake up
deep and breathing in
an ancient forest.
CA Guilfoyle Jul 2018
This trouble, like thunder
oft in the distance, my heart
Oh, it did boom
but far off it fades, this trouble
disappears in the wave
of days, all the ways
in which to die
then mend the wing
again to fly.
CA Guilfoyle May 2018
Because our days are straying
and though the nights are spellbound
we are only ever falling away
only ever coming and going.
Near the blue banked shores
we are anchored, bobbing and breathing
the clouds are merely sailing ships
waves of swirling skies.
Upon the tide the moon rips and pulls
stars come to swoon and soothe
floating in the night lands
plush and indigo blue.
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