Awake to promises , dreams
and ambitions , to coffee
and dark bread , to life's intangibles flurrying about
my head
To the truth , to the rain of
depression fought by a pharmacological
roof  
A morning ode to dark clouds , knowing full well that
sunshine hides in the background

A traitor cloaked in the cloth
of family is a monster indeed

Clip clop go rain drops from rooftops
Splashing into clear pools in a
foggy window backdrop
Willow parasols drip drop -
Monday morning rain
Draw a smiling Sun on a window pane* .

Her white brick storefronts were bathed in March
showers and Spring flowers
Umbrellas depicted every shade of the rainbow ,
A gaggle of blackbirds sang paeans from the courthouse
square ,
The bell tower struck the noon hour
No one seemed to really care
Appointments were being addressed ,
diners were serving lunch , traffic slowed to a capricious halt ,
rainy weather fraught with cold and visible breath
Sunshine struggled for a moment ,
only to be buried in gray blankets* ...

Placid , silver waters duplicate
your lovely face , the pelicans at the shore
are as brown as your eyes , breakers in the warmth of May
Dawn reminds me of shooting stars ,
our bodies entwined , bathed in the
light of the moon , wildflower collections
in the month of June , your hair reminiscent
of a September songbird tune , your pretty face now
becomes the cool of Autumn , dandelions along the
river bottom , fields of cotton beside familiar roads ,
pink azaleas glowing along my journey home

Who made the hawk so sad
in winter sky , etching it's loneliness
to my wandering eye ,
Noble upon the tallest elm
Steeped in curiosity , crying tales
of Cherokee , of Muscogee , of hunter
and warring party*

*What hand did color the Georgia dusk ,
with lavender blue oils and orange sunshine
traipsing centurion forest
With waterbirds following the lantern of
God home , through arable pastures , o'er granite domes

Revolution now absconded , buried in lies
Period heroes covered in bird **** , cold green copper effigies
D.C. wannabes , robots packin' protected heat , militarized police working the crime scenes , when agents of change patrol the pink
dogwood streets , martial law is thawing in their sink
A bottle of gin to cure the alcoholic
Sun setting pyre for the agnostics
Who's above little me
Who in the **** believes they're commanding
me