Autumn winds blow strong
Filling air with falling leaves
Parted from their trees

If everything that
Existed didn't exist
There would be nothing

In the end
The heart knows its way
And when my life begins to fade
My love for you
Will fade like
Summer's green leaves
To brilliant colors
And my fruit will be
The most abundant and sweetest ever
Before it falls to earth
Leaving me with branches bare
And nothing left to reach for
But heaven

One of those people
Who you think you'll see again
But you never do

In the shade where it's cool
A little stream ran
Making its way
Over pebbles and sand.
Forget-me-nots blue
Were growing nearby
Scattered like stars
On a grassy, green sky.

One evening in August
We stood there in silence,
Lost in our thoughts
As the water rushed on.
In time, we discussed
The forget-me-nots
And how they had lasted
All summer long.

Early Autumn chill
Feelings of summer passing
Where did they all go?

The graveyard is large
With many empty spaces
Waiting to be filled

Watch the leaves flicker
See the story of your life
The past and future

The wall is our world
The shadow is the sun
Caressing us

The wall is the people we know
The shadow is our feelings
About them

The wall is our hearts
The shadow is the distance
Between them

The wall is the truth
The shadow is what we say
About our lives

The wall is your lips
The shadow is your breath
Flowing between them

The wall is the total
Of our experience
The shadow is my memories of you

The wall is my body
The shadow is the dust
It will become

All of my stories
Romances of drifting clouds
My reality

All of them are clouds
All the loves of my long life
Summer clouds that drift

I ground her words
Into tiny flakes
And smoked them
All afternoon
After that, I fell asleep
And woke up on the moon

Maybe it was big spiders
From underneath the eaves
Or maybe just a little bird
That came down from the trees
Or maybe some fat garter snake
That crept up from the lawn
In any case, the next morning
All those four were gone...

Poor monarch caterpillars
Plump as plump could be
Contented, moving slowly
On their sweet milkweed
All four gone for ever
We'll see them not again.
Pretty butterflies on air
Alas, they would have been...

No rhyme at this time
Empty heart and empty mind
Can't love or opine

Jumbo Manhattan
Filling the yellow-bird glass
Friday night, at last

The wind in the leaves
Crickets chirping in August
Summer sounds we love

We make up stories
Trying to convince ourselves
Of what we believe

Butterfly shadows
Nothing more ephemeral
Nothing less either

Brief mountain summers
Come and go like humming birds
That hover and dart

I am the red sun rising,
And you the dawn's warm glow,
It's not exactly just like that
But similar, I know.

You are the moving ocean,
And I the rising tide,
A very hard thing to describe
But at least I tried.

You are the pure, white snow drifts,
And I the Winter chill,
That's a close description
But that's not quite it still.

You are the mountain air,
And I the eagle flying--
It really isn't just that way,
But I keep on trying.

It's like the barriers cease to exist
When bolts of lightning merge;
We pause--the thunder rolls away--
Then feel another surge.

Steep rusty roofs
On faded red barns
Dry stubble fields
Tall silos forlorn
Abandoned homesteads
Stretch cold empty arms
Silent remains of
What used to be
Farms

Gone from the fields
The crops and their yields
Gone from the homesteads
Families and kin
Old barns stand empty
It seems like a sin
And land that was dust
Is now dust again

The wine is deep red
Sensual, smooth, semi dry
We revel in it

Sitting on the porch
Sunlight splashing on the lawn
Summer moving on

In the summertime
Old memories from childhood
Visit frequently

Gentle summer rains
Falling on ponds and puddles...
The circles they make...

The leaves on the trees are all green
Green, green, green, green, green
Calling us to life
Do you know what I mean?

The leaves on the trees are all green
Green, green, green, green, green
Even in darkest  night
Do you know what I mean?

The leaves on the trees are all green
Green, green, green, green, green
They sing in the wind
Do you know what I mean?

The leaves on the trees are all green
Green, green, green, green, green
Seems they'll always be green
Do you know what I mean?

The leaves on the trees are all green
Green, green, green, green, green
Like I've always loved you
Do you know what I mean?

You are what you are
You aren't what you used to be
You'll know when you're old

Down on the green fleece jacket
The one with the piping white
Green like emeralds the jacket
Her hair, coal black like night.

The golden heart suspended
And chain about her neck,
Spend the hours close to her--
In heaven, I expect.

The hair net worn professional
A trend for fashion sets
When all beneath beguiles the eye
A crown on her it rests.

Once, I saw her run the square
A brisk and steady pace
Dressed in black from head to toe
A stern, determined face.  

I'm wishing I could run with her,
But that can never be--
Except maybe from time to time--
In a fantasy...

Huge, white clouds that drift
Stately, shifting, rounded shapes
Younger days recall

Does a bigger brain
Penetrate reality
Or make up stories?

Death:  no consciousness
A minute, a billion years
Exactly the same

Dandelion seeds
And apple blossom petals
Drifting springtime snow

Unrelenting green
Is a very short season
Here and gone too soon

Is that a dead fly?
No, that isn't what it is--
It's a bit of lint

You seek time travel?
Then go to where time exists--
Go to your own mind

Winter's a time for philosophy,
When deep snow covers what we love
We make up stories to convince ourselves
That nothing we care about matters that much.
Or we feed our hopes with memories,
Warming ourselves around that woodstove,
As if keeping those fires alive
Keeps the things we love closer
Even as they become more distant,
Or keeps us ready for their return,
Though they are never coming back.
We dance, waving our arms frantically
In the smoke, playing games in the snow,
Keeping things alive in our minds
As if memory brought them nearer.
Pictures on shelves
(Showing how it was for us)
Sit and gather dust.
We bathe in happy memories
And try to look ahead,
Hoping for summer again.

I was picking blueberries
With aunt Pat and Carolyn
We had just come upon the best
Patch of the day
When we heard thunder
And it started to rain
Aunt Pat said we had to go
She hurried us back across the field
And into the house

I've never been back there,
Until today

Every bug, fish, cat, elephant, human
And every other living thing that ever
Existed or ever will exist, anytime and anywhere,
Lives in the light that goes on and on
In the endlessness of everything that
Ever was or ever will be, and everything
That any of them ever did or ever will do
Lives in that light and exists in the same moment  
Of what we call time, but nothing that
Lives in the light knows anything of time--
All any of them knows is the light.

A gentle breeze
Blew a big leaf towards me
Along the sidewalk

At first
I thought it was a turtle
Then, I realized it was just a leaf
And moved on

It was fall when I fell for you,
Gazing at hillsides of varied hue--
Red-headed girls in saffron dresses
Coming to give me hugs and kisses,
Moving in droves from outcrops and ridges
Crossing the valleys and brooks without bridges.

You, of all, were most fair,
Your hair,
Piled like clouds at sunrise,
Passion and excitement fierce
Burning in gray-blue eyes,
Particles of light aglow
Surrounding you in mist
That totally envelops me
Every time we kiss.

Now, you tease me like a breeze
And hear what I don't say--
I throw my troubles in your fire
They're gone,
And joy remains.

we'd float like two clouds
through the sky all day
from the rising sun
'til its setting ray

the hours would pass
like minutes at play
and all things but us
would just fade away

A billion years is
Time, long or short, depending
On your perspective

Ghosts of the past summer
Linger into late fall
Then most of them move on
To a timeless sleep that never ends
But there are some really old ghosts
That come back every spring
Just as the snow melts and
Before things get green
To recall the people they once loved
And the places they once knew

Scattered, gray-white clouds
Bygone summer days recall
Drifting north to south

January flash
We hear winter thunder boom
First time in our lives

Huge, white clouds that drift,
Stately, shifting, rounded shapes
Recall younger days

Soft shapes touch a child's finger,
Memories of their sweetness linger--
Helping grandma roll the dough
In her kitchen long ago.

I like the shape your cookies take
When they spread out as they bake,
Like the changing shapes of crowds,
Melting snow or summer clouds.

Oven-hot and placed on racks,
Lined up , lying on their backs,
Coming from a single batch,
But none of them a perfect match.

Toll house cookies, soft, convex,
Each perfection, like the next:
Chocolate chips their surface grace--
Freckles on a child's face.

Pecan ball aren't perfect spheres,
But they're gentle little dears:
Bottoms flat, sides dented slightly,
With white sugar sprinkled lightly.

Sugar cookies cold days cheer,
Shaped like angles and reindeer
Glazed with frosting sweet and white,
Decked with sprinkles all delight.  

Santa's Whiskers, coconut rolled,
Long fat logs of sugared dough,
Cut in portions smooth and round,
Pecan bits, cherries abound.  

Molasses crinkles' faces lined
Like old men's--the friendly kind--
With lines like back roads on a map,
Dunked in milk before a nap.

Oatmeal cookies, shapes amorphous
Juicy raisins budge enormous,
Semi-blobs, their texture rough,
Sometimes packed with nuts and stuff.

So many cookies through our life,
Since we became husband and wife,
In their sweet aroma and taste
Years rushed by like cars in a race.

Looking at their shapes diverse
Reminds me of our love at first:
We weren't sure just where we'd go
And all we had was cookie dough.

Nature's own inkblots,
By time and wind shaped
Each with a story to tell,
Fantasy stirring, recollection as well,
Knowing us better than we know ourselves.  
Some have stooping shoulders,
Like old men after a funeral
Talking quietly on the lawn.
Some have boughs that slant down,
Like eyebrows
On teachers that frown--
Worried and skeptical.
Some stand at varied intervals
Along hilltops above a town
Watching like sentinels.
Some have branches that curve up,
Short, like fancy mustaches,
Or long branches, like eager arms outstretched
To greet a loved one.  
Some stand very close, boughs touching,
Like families saying grace;
On some, the branches intertwine,
Like lovers who embrace,
And on some, the lowest limbs
Fly upwards,
Like a skirt raised by the wind.  
Young ones crowd together,
Some taller than the rest,
Trunks thin,
Like kids choosing sides for baseball.
On some, the branches rise like smoke,
Billowing silently, curling,
Drifting to the sky
Like prayers from a little church
Where all the woman wear hats,
And every man wears a tie.  
Like inkblots spreading they capture the eye--
Each with a story to tell.
Silently standing,
By time and wind shaped
Knowing us better than we know ourselves.

Warm spring rain on a tin roof
When I'm out after dark alone,

Snow-muffled tires of a car passing by
When I'm little and tucked in at home,

A song sparrow's voice in the morning
From somewhere high in the trees,

A brook's hoarse roar when the snow melts
And wind in the evening leaves,

The crackling coals of a campfire
The smack of a ball on a bat,

A chainsaw deep in the forest
As I drift away on my nap:

Sounds that bring life to life,
From childhood 'til I turn gray:

If I weren't here to hear them
Would they still sound the same way ?

Once the lightest snowfall comes
That clings to roofs and lawns
Like the silk slip clung to your hips,
The summer is over, completely gone.
We remember what never happened,
And because the years go in a circle,
We think our lives do,
When what they really do is unwind
Like a twisted thread,
Frequently changing direction.
Thought we yearn for it all winter,
It is a new summer that comes--
Not the old one.
We think when the summer returns
Things will be what they were,
But once its gone, its gone forever.