i.
morning sand chills my feet
damp grains cling between my toes
a predawn morning cold
mid-August summer day

ii.
down the beach
i watch hawks circling
hunting the tree line, they
work the shore grasses
a narrow strip of tall plants
between beach and wood
circling closer and closer
     coming to me

iii.
they soar a steady breeze off the lake
hunting prey which i hear
scurrying frantically among the tall grasses
the hawks circle now directly above
white bodies with dark wing feathers

iv.
in the beach house
hang two paintings by a local artist
children playing on this very beach
chasing one another and crouching in the tide-pool
shown in fine detail
especially for water color  
yet, i notice, the children
have no faces, merely brown smudges
     featureless

v.
that night, sitting
around a beach bonfire
sparks jump from burning logs
about me forms glow red
i see these faces too appear as
smudges,
     featureless
like an infant
     at it's birth

In the dark
my dog and I walk
quietly across their lawns
down their roads
around their corners.

In the dark
we see vignettes
in the windows
hear the voices
loud or soft.

In the windows
we see tv flickers
lifted hands, but not to praise
hands that raise
against another blow.

In the windows
we see light and laughter
soft embraces
sleeping children
quiet peace.

On the lawns
are men smoking
holding drinks
talking sports
and children's birthdays.

In the dark,
my dog, we wonder
when will we be
loving family
and quiet peace.

Vera once told me Mickey Mouse used to be a bisexual
That she can’t have kids
That I should never get old
But if I do
Don’t get diabetes because
Sugar free chocolate doesn’t taste nice

Her hair has that blue hue
Almost purple
It brings out her eyes

Her voice
When it is not overpowered by her walker
Is smooth and sure
Like sandpaper on velvet
She talks like she is already a ghost

I had a dog when I was younger
And he got sick one day
Really he got old
Something about his liver
And he started to bleed out from the inside
I asked the vet if he was in pain
He said no
Basically he got really tired
So he thought it was time to take a nap
And he went to his place
And never woke up
That’s a nice way to die

She smiles at me
I give her change
For the diapers
And the sugar free chocolate
And the 16 ounce bottle of orange juice

I touch her hand
It feels like that one time
Paper tried to be human
And begged you to play along

I played along

I don’t want her to die
But she’s 93
She’s cool with that

She tells good stories
And I know I won’t see her one day
I’m cool with that

Unfilled dreams visit me
and I pretend
thundering pain does not touch my soul
when I can't hear you say,
“I love you”
before I lay me down to sleep.
Still, I wonder
if I called out on the coldest night
would I hear nothing
but silence
inside the dreams
I keep.  

In the morning hours
I write your name
in the air
with a hand of power,
creating an image
of  love's fire
that can never be lost
in thought.  
A delightful understanding
becomes a sensation of living
with the eyes of my heart
wrapped around the words
I have sought.

My mind sings our story
even when I am alone.
It shouts
from an ocean
of heaven
with a tune swinging  
to the countless beat
of our future need.
It paints our past
with long strokes of feeling
outside of  all the years
that were hidden
by a shadow's greed.

Here I stand as I am
with an invitation
circling my heart
creating a place
for you to be
when time hands me leave
to love you
with every breath
I breathe.  
Although, I may not hear the words
from your lips
the eyes of my heart
hear you speak
with ears........
that see.