The air here is slow, it breathes like steam
a fog bank hovers, settles within
time does not tick ahead
I stare at minute hands
this room is silent snow
a cold colored blue
and drifts through broken windows
a fragmented dream
of you.

All day from the canyon
the wind birds hover
the dance of pines,
the free water.

The long grass that flows,
green seaweed of the river.
September's early leaves
paper, gold upon the water,
wild yellow petals.

The river's edge
shines with flowers, fully petaled
looking out upon the water
all day the blue, green, yellow of the water
all day until the red, gold of the evening sun.

For me it is full and hollow, rings of tree
seas of dream, waves awash my sleepy meadow
skies will sing, nights will go
music, deepest dark of cello
and when will come - the sun?
I wait, the day that it will shine
once again for me

When you were a child,  skies went on forever
golden light, your heart - of fiery field
with a toy gun to shoot the falling stars
from heaven

Once I saw a funeral march
walking slow as fog, gray sorrow made it's way
with flowers, and faces cried like rain
and stayed with me, all the day

When I was a child, death was foreign
mysterious as plague and strange
on wintry wings it seemed to come
- never calling your name

In those days and dreams of ocean birds
with songs of love, you swam to the warming sun

Today outside your window
a tiny bird sings
to the solemn dawn
unaware that you have gone
just like all the golden flowers
of yesterday and tomorrow

Paper trees
winter still lingering
soon begins water ice trickling
big eyed, dogwood blossoms, rain
pink cherry flowers blooming mad
snow of paper petaled lawns
gardens whisper underground
in colored arrangements
awaiting dawn

I am counting things
at night numbers, dreams
hum of a hundred bells
soft harps to soothe
sweet with birds colored blue
in the tiger grass, big eyed cats
twitchy whiskers and paws
they sleep beneath tree limbs
branches wild and gnawed.

Do not wake me
while the garden is glowing
a thousand flowers in rows
I am fixed on violets
hydrangeas indigo blue
with fingers I paint thick
brick in red rose variants
on the lawn peacocks in resplendence
with monde blue-green iridescence
and a million gypsophila clouds pass by.

a garden fence of wooden slats
giant poppies bloom and fill the gaps
brightest petals, orange

white birds of summer  
will mend, with twine and twig
windy nests of a northern winter

today, only an indigo sea
of lavender bees, will hum
like gold, beneath the sun

no frowning clouds will come
only morning glory flowers will bloom
blue as sky, blue as heaven

Brittle the dust flew winding it's way through the hollows
seagulls winging songs for love
Fog horns deep the darkening storm rolls on
splattering waves of day begin
Pebbles running down hill
gathering shells, my cup to fill
hurry home my frozen toes
thawing by the fire
counting shells
and embers

It came softly warm, mist of fragrant showers
bright flowers of parchment petals, drank
of sun, of moon, of rain
a world glistening, silent
as perseid shooting stars
falling from a sea
of heavens

In your tiny room, of paper flowered blue
with stains - brown rains the wall
a picture of light shining, eyes golden through
watched over, long nights - of dreams and moon
a restless ghost will follow
leave you deeply hollow
in your home

Morning ferns, no words to speak aloud
no language, only fragrant mossy earth
Oxalis a blanket, the hour blooms white
with lilies of perfection
dreams linger real
and never forget

beluga whales surfaced, floating ghostly white
ferocious tides ripped, sands sinking

cowslip tripped the cloud's crashing sky
sunbursts cracked storm walls, with fire yellow light

rain far-off sheeted, poured - hillsides weeping
fireweed bowed, bent heavily sleeping

the rutted road curved swerving narrowly upward
leading me to the sweet summer of Girdwood

In relation
to stars, planets - the earth
please share here the date of your birth
You needn't put the year,
unless of course you dare
Now if you don't mind
please post your
astrological
sign

Cyd
July 22
Leo

Walking through the cottonwoods
along a blue-green sea of reeds
the spring pond ripples
with ducks and coots
glint of red on wings
the singing blackbirds
silver minnows flash by
and wriggle in beaks
of fisher birds, so swift
the time to live
and die.

Nights, when I don't see you
trailing in stars
or by the light of moon
however bright
blackness takes my sight
a shooting star - I fall
back to everything
and nothing
at all

Sudden rush, so windy
a golden bird is flying
wings unfold, you want to hold
some kind of love undying
soon lands your head
in flowery clouds
and disappears
some sorrow
in skies of sun
layers of love
bled into
gradient
color

Gray woods, morning mist
hangs upon the trees, leaves decay, sway
falling to the ground

quiet this world, but for the sound of rain
washing wet the berry vines, droplets
falling to the ground

tiny sparrow flits among sheltered branches
a nest to repair, twine and twigs, little sticks
falling to the ground

I am green in these hills
I wait all spring long
wait through grey rains
too early for summer flowers
I dream of sun fields brightest yellow
my heart a wild field that burns
my lips are paper seeking water
desolate in this desert
your lips now merely
a mirage.

You lingered far too long
with rain clouds, your morning fog
I waited in mists of rain, the days
for sun to warm, to wrap it's arms once more
to watch the steam of scented cedars
I sat silent under great trees
of a rhododendron forest
kept looking for buds
a hint of flowers
to come

Grey pond so still
amid the smokey layers
winter's foggy trees concealed
geese slowing in the depths unknown
so scarce a sheltering home
cruel winds of driving cold
too late the sun, void
of summer's gold

Grey woods, morning mist
hangs upon the trees, leaves decay, sway
falling to the ground

Quiet - this world, but the sound of rain
washing wet the berry vines, droplets
falling to the ground

Sparrows flit among sheltered branches,
nest's to repair, twine and twigs
falling to the ground

A wave, a black flood pooling
storm of sorrow leaving  
deep wound of darkness reigning
teardrops falling to the ground
your buried silence
grieving

She loved the pale moon
he traveled beneath night's sky
woven by starlight

Some days, this desert
under spells of sun and moon
think, I brood in fields of agave blue
the angled sun blares sharp to parch
to dry, to crackle leaves to dust
tricky this prickly pear cactus
bitter thorns laden with
impossible blood sweet fruit
while high and seen out the corner
of my eye, the half moon smiles
beguiled by the sun.

Hawk hunting in the grey, last light
sliced the evening air
talons locking swift
two birds falling
black of night,
breathes death
to rise - calling
ever endless as
breath

I am delirious, lingering from days
frayed at both ends, especially the head
and knotted in the middle, a rope tightened
round the heart, squeezing beats out
in stops and starts, oh but this is how
we play the game, it's sweaty palmed,
brow furrowed fun, with far too many clocks
cold halls to walk, amongst holy ghosts
tearing through white sheeted rooms, they haunt
or sometimes they bring invisible healing
placing flowers in colorful rings
and garlands circling round the bed
and in the night, only blue white light
to fill a room, basked in love
a tattered heart to mend

He bought and sold things, much like the man
who sold balloons in the park, fashioning them into strange animals
mostly fastened to wooden sticks, except for the helium headed ones
they remind me of you, floating high and lofty
out of reach, wanting escape from ties and pulling strings
drifting from the city moving countrywards
many are mesmerized by the migration
the fantastical triumph of levitation
they wait for days, years under trees
but not I, I am no longer drunk by
hot air and helium dreams

I find myself here, wild
roaming the long road home
to no one belong

Spend all of these days
together or alone

Survive the heave and cleave
the warp, the weave
of winding years

A lifetime, a spiral of
trying
flying
dying

Paintings, closets buried deep - she cannot escape
rustic paint peels from long forgotten faces
in faded works, her tears of tattered pages
that silent sleep, with wings they weep
and long to fly, far from
lonesome cages

Mourning - you flew over indigo waters,
landing
Stealthy stalker you walked the shallows  
billing silvery minnows
On rust red stilts, you're built
to move in watery fields
Eyes piercing depths of algae blooms
rippled, your swaying seaweed room
Silent hunter,
feathery plumed

Mourning - you flew over indigo waters,
landing
Stealthy stalker you walked the shallows  
billing silvery minnows
On rust red stilts, you're built
to move in watery fields
Eyes piercing depths of algae blooms
rippled, your swaying seaweed room
Silent hunter,
feathery plumed

If wind
would have known
could have gone
another way around
if I had not been too soon, too late
to hesitate or let myself go - unbound
piled, buried too late to be found
if I'd not have stayed away far too long
yours would be a place
I still call home

When I returned home, after having been gone
I'd missed the fire orange poppies blooming
missed the lilacs too, it was early summer
time for bright and blossoming flowers
there is no place that fits me quite like this
no place I wear this smile, quite the same
I follow bees into the garden
I sing like morning birds
just to be home

I tried to quickly pass
in order to avoid the wreckage
You were shipwrecked outside a grocery store
washed up, delivered by a sudden squall
You sat atop a ***** crumpled duffle
I met your sullen, soulful eyes
they spoke harsh truths, not denied
I gave you groceries, you reached for my hand,
thinking me your mother, your sister, a friend
Leaving I turned to see your face
my heart dropped anchor,
sunk by such weight

I couldn't see, but water
reflecting, it danced from the sun
black cormorant dove under stars and pearls of sea
for silvery fish to fill his beak

a small boat I rowed
long through water weeds, cat tail reeds
paddles cut the diamond day sparkling

sandy shores mollusk strewn
rippled shells shimmering blue
oysters bubbled, shallows breathing
seagull smiled watchful scheming

a beach fire to warm the night
the dusky sun, no longer to keep
soon the moon between the trees
radiant, it wakes the stars from sleep

Hood Canal

I couldn't see, but water
reflecting, it danced from stars of sun
Black cormorant dove under stars and pearls of sea
silvery fished his netted beak

A small boat left untied to float, I rowed
weaving cat tail reeds, long through water weeds
Paddles cut my diamond day - sparkling
jewel of soul swayed, prayed to dive me deeper

Sandy shores mollusk strewn
rippled shells covered shimmering blue
Oysters bubbled shallows breathing
seagull smiled watchful scheming

Beach fire to warm the night
and rock the dusky sun to sleep
the coming moon between trees
dark night, the stars to weep

Nights, we take the boat out
paddle our way green through water
swum by inlet waves, full moon apace
shadowy, ancient tribal faced
lose all trace of the shore, black
but for phosphorescence
glowing, trailing from the oars
a haunting ghostly art
green and breathing, disappearing
back into darkness, swallowed
by black water, by night
strange this death,
this rebirth and breath
felt in each and every moment.

Nights, we take the boat out
paddle our way, green through water
swum by inlet waves, full moon apace
shadowy, ancient tribal faced
lose all trace of shore, black
but for phosphorescence
glowing, trailing from the oars
a haunting, ghostly art
green and breathing, disappearing
back into darkness, swallowed
by black water, by night
strange this death
the rebirth and breath
felt in each and every moment

Old books, older still the dust
lost library, forgotten world of words
through vertical windows, distorted glass
of years past, watch shapes of trees
colored birds fly by
dusty poem, room of
melancholy
rhyme

Black and white photos
framed upon the mantle
how long our memories
shining wild, to light a room
how long do we think them
ever full bloom

When evening's
long shadows come shooting
swift as arrows piercing stars, darkening this world
leaving gold amber hills in underworlds, far until tomorrow.

How can we know the difference, but for light of day
and if the sun does not come, how long would
such a strange night be?

A fevered pulse
though sweat moves slow
as night falls
fast upon our bed
breath of steam
we float like dream
to fill the hollows
sink, we swallow
the light of gold
we seek to follow
hear a blue calling
under the ache of stars
as the moon blooms
softly sallow.

It felt at first - tangled, then more of an unraveling
hair in hands vanished, how softness fell
swept across the room, and soon
shadows in the sky
lost in moon fog's tide
glowing, the shining of two souls
the seek and hide
the reappearing of
you and I

It must be a tricky business
it lingers, hovers stealthily
an invisible silence
a swift inhabitation
the soul awaits
to startle the body

In a wordless voice
it moves from room to room
turning lights on
spends a lifetime
ever longing
to be known
and heard.

When finally quiet comes
the long pain of night's trudge
the unmasked soul dredge
swift an arrow, piercing
when friends have all gone
in the silent dark before dawn
this is when you
miss me.