The moon eyewitness
Crashing in the currents
and polished chrome
in the blood orange dawn
running dogs of lummi
on this celestial
and tan saddles
the lowered hind
and fitted chaps
for the open flow
and rich peripheral scenes
concessions at the peace arch
(from the blue-coat fuzz)
cake the bow hill
(with their metal fleck
a half moon rises
on the concho
and interstellar cross
scour the netted docks
and row homes
spot the winding
at the packer slew ~
of briny bay
on the overlook
Spent a couple days in late September on a motorcycle trip with my brother...weaving through the small towns and villages of the Pacific Northwest. Magnificent!
...is a fragile little thing,
that most tend to overlook.
Small word with a **** big meaning.
Some may uphold it; some may
conveniently have it mistook...
...is in the grasp of the unknown
that helps you up when you've fallen
...is the pact between you and the cab
as he takes you to where you want to
be, across town.
...the bough on which your swing does
Pray that it doesn't break as you enjoy
its joyous ride.
...your cook, hoping in your food he
Especially when you've provided
feedback that scuffed his pride.
...lays exposed when the keys to your
house you surrender,
to your neighbour who'd keep an eye
while you're away on a retreat.
...exists latent in the open palm of your
As a child you'd take his hand so he'd
ferry you safely across the street.
...is the unspoken oath that I had thought
we both held sacred...
When I spilled the contents, my heart
couldn't bear much longer.
...meant nothing when you took it all for
when you weakened and succumbed...
...and then shared with another...
I step into the crispness of the Door, just past the peak of color,
and the smell of smoked wood fills the air.
Trees draped in yellow ochres and burnt siennas
overlook the paths and sidewalks of dappled leaves.
Lake Michigan, angry teal with late fall wind,
rolls in against massive rocks skirting its shores.
Whitecaps, balancing on the tip of each wave,
surf their way into shore and crash against breakwaters.
Winds whistling through the silver of leftover leaves
flit each like whirlybirds as they reflect the midday sun.
Feathered cattails, backlit against the morning sun,
line the roadsides while they wave goodbye in the wind.
I breathe in the color as it fades against the afternoon sky,
while collecting the stunning hues in photos and tasty delicacies along the way.
I bid farewell to the fish boils, cherries, apples,
and views of magnificent bays as I make my way back home.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
some days i miss you like an ant bite.
i can even overlook it with the right amount of will power.
others, i miss you as if my gallbladder was removed.
i can continue to live, but i know that something is missing.