Slowly the eyes weaken to see
to reach, to feel beyond the unreachable
a gush of a mirrored emotions
pleasing, easing ,evenly waving

At the core of the iris, images pledge
set on a plinth, staring at a ledge
where a shadow set and then fizzles
in reciprocal hues of amber sheen

Such a perfect night for strangers
mesmerized intentions subdued
tethered in mazes of unknown puzzles
tracing whispered primitive rhythms

My daughter talks to
her blueberries like
they're her friends.
My soul smiles
and I never want
it to end.

Bravely the sun announces night has flown,
Its blinding rays far and wide it casts;
Reluctantly the moon descends its throne .......
Nothing lasts

Contentedly you'll hear the robin sing,
Her egg-filled nest she proudly broadcasts,
Then one sad morning her fledglings take wing .......
Nothing lasts

The withered rose that once nourished the bees
Now treats them like bewildered outcasts,
Her drops of nectar no longer appease .......
Nothing lasts

Sad hearts rejoice when Love knocks at their door,
So glad to forget their shattered pasts;
Soon they're holding hands with despair once more .......
Nothing lasts

For some, life holds honey;  for others, rue,
And then suddenly the trumpet blasts,
The Angel of Death comes to claim his due .......
Nothing lasts

The light burns,
though it’s something
we all must face

She stands before the bathroom mirror
Creating several different faces
Tryng to find the one that doesn’t
Make her look so tired and old.

Some of them make her look ill
A couple more look silly.
The one she finally settles on:
A wan and disappointed smile -

Accepted as least ugly of the bunch
It’s not the face she’d hoped to wear
In this the Autumn of her life.
She expected some small trace
Of former beauty to remain.

She tried to make a little sparkle
To liven up her somber eyes
And find the muscle in her cheek
That lifts her lips into a grin.

A sorry rictus of despair
Was all that effort brought her
So she gave up and threw the switch
And slipped away in darkness
ljm

We used to talk about
going
to Montana--escaping it all,
building a log cabin and
making a garden.  We were
going to hunt and fish for
food--make rugs and
hats from the fur.

But look at us now.
You live in the
city and drive a Volvo.
Goldfish in a glass bowl.
You even taught your
cat to walk on
a leash.
Can you see the
sky with all the smog?

I'm not any better.
Living under the bridge;
the only hunting I do is
for cans, the rare and
illusive
aluminum nickel, so that
I can buy *****.  

I walk down to the
river's edge and look up at
the expansive sky.
I close my eyes.
And when I open them, baby,
we're in Montana.