The flame-red moon, the harvest moon,
Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing,
A vast balloon,
Till it takes off, and sinks upward
To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon.
The harvest moon has come,
Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon.
And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum.

So people can't sleep,
So they go out where elms and oak trees keep
A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush.
The harvest moon has come!

And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep
Stare up at her petrified, while she swells
Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing
Closer and closer like the end of the world.

Till the gold fields of stiff wheat
Cry 'We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers
Sweat from the melting hills.

you are lost,
     as lost as the next in line
at the store.
you are trapped
      in thoughts of war, and
environmental horrors
that are to befall us all.
you want to run
       to the edge of the field,
and peel the skin from
the base of your heel & peer in,
to find the glitch,
     because something is amiss.
the arguments don't resolve,
they become a hum
   that course down walls
like rain. some of us pray,
turn to religion,
   others look to games &
science fiction, all to drown out
the thought that
  the balance of good and evil has
swung & we're
     not quite sure which side we're on.

as a girl it didn't
occur
         that blossom
would fade
from pink cotton to
damp,
brown mulch,
to a congealed lump
my mother would
    painstakingly pull from
  full pockets at the
end of the day.
  its bloom consumed
by rain,
  and left to decay,  
its perfume a memory
that filled the air,
that with
   time you start to
        doubt was even there.

Look, but you can't see it
Listen, but you can't hear it
Reach out, but you can't touch it.
Invisible, inaudible, intangible.
Elusive.

The One.

I was going for another drive
An evening drive
Everyday consciousness
People coming and going
Walking dogs
Truly beautiful

Seal them
Within an
Envelope &
Post to
somewhere
Remote,
then let the
Moss grow,
The fall leaves
Pour and the
Winter winds
Roar, and when
It’s safe
go & find
That space,
Go where
The sea is
Cold and
Revisit the
Old, the things
You told
Yourself where
Too hard and
Too dark,
That left an
Indelible
Mark within
The heart.
Open and
Expose like
A lost film,
A reel that
Reveals and
Finally heals.

this head
is a blur to
you, an opaque,
one way mirror
reflecting back
your own figure.
so don't try to
guess, or project
how i might
think or feel,
i am a closed
book, and unless
i open up, there's
a cavern that
exists,
a wide endless
pit, a sea, a land,
a piece of sky,
a world growing
beneath hazel
green eyes.