Neons red in rain drops
bleeding down the window
a prayer for the ones
deserving more than they got.
Knew one,
a little buttercup,
parchment pale skin
and the bluest eyes
never caught a break
like a pigeon
with a low hanging
wing
on the ground it trails
left to peck in the gutters
with all the others
but the others
can always fly away.
patty m 4d
How wondrous this vision spun,
begun with brush dipped into dun,
yet meadowlark and thistle down
spread rainbow to the world surround
and thus spill forth a field of flowers
and trees whose height diminish towers,
                                in wind gusts fresh and free,
                                        imbued by sky and sea.
salty lick of wave, dark dampness of a cave
the crystal stream, the muddy river
all the joys our earth delivers

Yet the  birds and fish and beasts who roam
ask man to think, perhaps atone
open your eyes and try not to blink
as you strive to save Earth
from disaster's brink.
I found your face
On Facebook
Hard to believe
I was ever there
The landscape
Is fuzzy
Through the fog
Your profile is
So faded, there are
new wrinkles
Around your mouth
Under your eyes
Wisdom lines
Gathered during our
togetherness

Your eyes still seer with
Every look, yet that look
Seeks not to find my soul
Whatever you saw
One look was enough
What you saw
was too mild, or wild
Or too jagged

Hidden in this box of memories
Are pieces of you
Musty reminders
some invigorating
some good
Mostly gone
Sometimes I write something, look at it a week or so later and then can't seem to remember why I wrote it or even what I was trying to say.  Nonetheless, here it it.
  7d patty m
SE Reimer
~

on a tail of two,
of a west meets an east;
no New York state of mind,
states differing you see
(we're more Oreganic than he),
in these musketeers three.
this traveler’s tale;
turning steed to the beach;
for a sharing of trails;
and of capes... one for each.
words, brisk in the wind,
under skies of azure,
walk on sands of gold,
and though aging in years,
three hearts grow not old.
for a crowning of points,
no, this vista ain't free;
though a highway may close,
or on views juxtapose,
on much they’ve agreed.
tis a free state of mind,
here on westerly breeze;
a binding of souls,
at five & forty degrees.
theirs a latitude free,
a bit shy a quorum,
with much space in-between,
but of this they are sure,
tis a kinship of verbs;
more poetic than words,
links theses brothers three!

~

post script.

~
from Oregon with love (Google those words), HePo has been good to us, to me, forging friendships, then erasing distance; first word to word, now hand to hand!!!  three capes, three brothers, three poets... that’s a lotta affinity here (Lipstadt, Yocum & Reimer).  of note- Three Capes Scenic Drive- Kiwanda, Lookout & Mears. Closed Highay- Historic Columbia Gorge Scenic Highway (America’s first) due to major fire of 2017.  Crown Point / Vista House- America’s million dollar rest stop circa 1918. Meeting place, a farm just north of the North 45th° parallel, halfway tween equator and North Pole.
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