In the fog
streetlight glow:
Will-o-the-Wisps

Embers wrapped in gauze
harsh yellow light
spills into grey monotony

The world has shrunk
confined
to the pools cast by floating lamps

All else
is a faded
grey blur

A stagnant breeze
stokes the down air
into writhing ethereal vines  

Vision clouded
permeated by whisper
mist caressing  

Everything is painted mute
a drear uneasy blanket
cast into the valley

I drift
strung along
by the luminous spectral splashes

Unseen
Unnoticed
a smudge in a world of vapor

Am I
anymore definite
than the intangible fog?

March today
despite being January
At least  a good day for a walk

Ice in sepia speckled with black
wilted under
the Water’s surface

Ridges and islands
           of white ice protrude
from the murk

Delicate ripples
roil from
inky black wells

Drab and tattered
the snow trodden grass
sways in the wind
Murk
Murk
The color of tea

steaming
Chai
In a floral mug

A warm up from
the chill
  walk

I drink down
to the dregs
satisfied  


It’s still March
as if January resigned early
and February forgot to come

Forty Degrees
clad in shorts
and sweatshirt, I walk  

Air perfumed by thawing soil
and melted pond pools
painted robin’s egg blue

Ice bent trees
bow towards the road
like children’s hands

Reaching towards
pothole puddles with trickles
trailing like balloon strings

Reflecting the sky
inverted vignettes
Caste in brown

Framing the trees
skeletal fractal fingers
reaching across the tableaux

Peering through the clouds
the Sun silhouettes
black bottle brush pines

Learn to live
in Summer hours
happy

Always adjust
the Sails
to wise wind

There is heart in us
asking to Live
You and me

Luck chance
there is nothing to lose
by living in your heart

There is
always
Something

I was immersed
          In Ray Bradbury
                   and a cup of Tea

Suddenly, my bubble popped
          wrenching me into
                         the real world

On the television
          there was a commercial
                  for the new Ford Fusion
I find myself
              again
                    in a new world
          
It's last year
                   in a Friend's car
                            approaching a red light

I say "If we just drive fast enough the red light will be Blue Shifted to green"
Amused, she inquires "How fast would we need to be going?"
"Oh, I don't know. Probably approaching the  speed of light"
with a chuckle she says "What is they had a particle collider, but for cars"
not missing I beat, I shoot back "Oh they do, it's how they make the Ford Fusion" I continue laughing "You know a CARticle accelerator"
We Laugh

Back again to the present
                I'm basking in the thought
                                     of friendship            

Her voice just as real
            our laughter just as warm
                             the feelings just as real
That vivid moment
           had felt just as real
                         if not more so

I can't help but smile
                      and let out a little laughter
                                 at the significance of the Ford Fusion

Tidal emotions
                Ebb and
                            Flow
Coming and going
                    With the phase of the moon
                                                   Or day of the week
In remission they sit
                     at Times
                             leeward of the conscious mind
Somedays a deluge
                      Engulfs
                                Me­
Others, more mild,
                    The water stands
                                    unstirred (but still there)
most days though,  I find
                that I'm wallowing
                                Infatuated in a warm drizzle

Winter Solstice dark
A hopeful turn in Season
Sunlight returning

Cross legged
              On the floor
                                  I sit.
Intently, staring
                At the plastic
                             Penguin.
A half and two feet tall
                    Black and white
                               Save his yellow irised eyes
In my lonely boredom
                      I find consolation
                                    In his plastic Form
From a yard sale
              I adopted him
                       Several years ago
Not knowing then
                I'd find in him
                            A calming air
I think it's his simplicity
                         That in this absurdity  
                                            I find a certain ease
He knows nothing of
                Impending deadlines
                              Or personal dramas
Nor is he stuck in
                        Life's
                           banality
Simple is the plastic penguin
                                         Before me
                                                 Yet still
I find he breaks
             Life's absurd tragic
                               Monotony