Drunk from words poured over ice
melting in our empty glasses;
giddy as children discovering passion
for the first time,
in a kiss under
warm summer's rain -
we elated in wetness
given to clothing and dried lips
yet still held it secret
'lest in telling it might end,
life become ordinary again.

wind arrived in secret waves;
chime strings tangled
tongue-tied
while tides
crept neigh strangled
piles, seaweed, dead skates they gave
to sand last night.
white moon's
bright light
broke on water,
like mirror's shattered shards strewn.

I wonder what the speed of dreams is
can we outrun them
or catch up when we dare,
latch on to the ones
we would care to live in;
are they like sounds
rippling through air -

or rather more stars' light,
in flight 'cross wide universes,
like mighty, galloping, wild horses
'till caught by the eyes,
tamed rides for tired minds ...

... do they travel through ethers
known only to souls,
who keep them as secrets
when daylight unfolds
else we might stay there,
forgetting our chores,
just us two lying
on the bank of a river
under the willow
that binds us together

I see the wetness glistening from your slim body.
You have been away from me too long.
My memory of your sweetness needs no egging on.
I can not wait much longer, we need to be alone.
You know just what  I hunger. You sparkle in your ways.
You know just how to control the rythem. A little  give and take.
You fit so perfect in my hand, made just for me.
Come a little closer, stop teasing me.
My lips are so close to you, your sweetness I am about to taste.
Man there is nothing on this earth like a cold beer at the end of the day!

I have always suspected it
Now maybe it has been proved
We are never more human
than when we are gardening

There is something about soil
fingers getting black and gritty
touching a young seed
tucking it in a well prepared bed

Not for sleep but for
both growth and rest
for feeling the pull
of the moon

On its slender shooting self
Humans as gardeners
are human indeed
to me

Pruning too
I love pruning
can go hours with those lopper things in hand
snipping here and there

Sculpting my yard
by inches
and loving it
Being human

Even if you don't believe
the biblical story
about how this all began
you gotta admit it is a beautiful story
about being all too human