The belated summer sky is alive
with a  D r a g o n f l y ballet

Beneath,.. the rain parched sod
lay sullied, cracked open
by an unsated thirstiness
awaiting the painted autumn days
and the cleansing rain's renewal

A lace-winged hatch rises skyward
— meandering  airborne —
drifting upwards like a burst of dust
dissipating in an invisible cloud
of eventide's silent breath

Darting shadows hover
above a seeker's curiosity
    just this side the  
softening sunset backdrop

A synthesis of fluid motion
  – darting kinesis –
    swift agile fliers
steal away over the thirsty pond;
their mesmerizing beauty enchants
as the dimming dusk falls silent —-
embellishing the unrelenting ending
   another summer's
 imminent curtain call;

reminding how inexorable-time
is only a contrived human notion,
a recurring extrapolation
  of passing  seasons

Heightening awareness:
how we too are only
passing through these
unholdable moments
   coming to know
    we cannot stop
   how life unfolds

The raindrops will quench
the pond's aching thirst
again one fall someday...

  — hereafter —
there will be another
beauty of dragonflies
some other eyes will see
preying on another burgeoning
gossamer-winged hatch

          and
another beckoning autumn
when the dragonflies hover
below the gazing totems
     in the treetops


Jesse Stillwater ... September 2018                                                 .

Enchanted by spring’s
rustling whispers
     ... whistles swirl
in the pungent springtime breeze;
steeped with a bedazzling
        cadence
   heart dancing
to a hummingbird’s
         whirs

   waves of breath,
of little wings waft,
whooshing throughout
twining honeysuckle lattice
       a
tiny manger
beset of hidden gold
precious speckled eggs, 
silver lining of smallest hopes
   fruits of fruition
   continuum beheld prize,
concealed in interwoven rootlets;
   
potently perfumed flowers
       while away
the waning dark hours;
swollen full flower moon
           waxing yellow,..
         heavenly fragrance
sweetly-scented suckled nectar
  
the one with eyes of a child,
   wonder ― hidden inside,  
   marvel in the light of grateful eyes
imbibing an unholdable moment's
    spellbinding elixir 
    ... poetry alive

air  so poignantly perfumed
       with blossom
        moonstruck
by spring’s frolicking cadency
a reverent moment's
edifying intoxication

       a sobering beauty that just is...



someone ... May 2017

The warm autumn breeze
         scatters the leaves
     like spring  snowflakes
      I carefully hand stack
        them each by color,
              one by one,
           as if they were
          befallen dreams
                     or
      similarly unholdable
               gathered
      garnered memories
                      •
        each leaf touched
             reminds me
       of how many times
          I've had to let go ―
         how many times  
                I've fallen
     without a place to land
   until the winds of change
         drew me back up
               as if I were
   evanescent autumn leaves,
      to be swept away again,
         touched by the spirit
             the true nature
                  of  love
                      • •        
        sown seeds of one love
           bestrewn hopefully,
             thusly cast about
              just as intended,  
   the grain and chaff together,
     sifted by the velvet breath
        of the samsara wind's
              sanguine touch

                     •  •  •
            

  autumn waters ... October 29, 2017

Sometimes
in the mornin'
dawn awakens
unquiet heart
    swaddled
   in a dream ―

       and
      i hear
    a whisper
    from a voice,
gentle as a burning
      candle,
 sing to me softly
without words

... a stirring
moment ripples ―
an unholdable dream
    fleeting;
    lapping
wakeless silence;
... vanishing , . .
    swilled
by the daylight
   just beyond
   closed eyes
     awoken

    and now
 it's only me
      again



words in the wind

I can't get myself to allow another human to hold my heart.

Not because of the fear that they might break it.

Instead that my broken heart, in pieces, shaped with sharp edges will hurt them.

Take a rose for example, it's thorns prevent you from holding on to it, you might put up with a cut or two but after a while no matter how beautiful the rose is - you will let it go.

As the rose is better enjoyed admiring from arms length, so am I.

As the rose grows until picked by someone elses hand, so am I.

So let me go. Let me grow.

Admire from afar. I've seen my mark in too many people's scars.

John Paul Fraser (c)

All a lumping together, forced to face our separate selves
Though if we forms divised apart
When do we melt or sublimate back?
Off tract by habit-tat-tat-tat-tat
Laughing; the brat upheld her ways
Braying and kicking and making a stink
Staking unholdable, miserable values
Dolls on a glass shelf, and we dust to misinform
Because these ever static statistics
hold our weary waves from wagging
To their novel nature
And I pray to find that state, that place, that thee
The Thou-
Caught by the proud, the sounds they unfold
And the echos distract, and derail off a track
That could never take leave
The olive branch dove of concept
panics from the sound of arms
..she never left
Never will and the wilting flower falls
to clear the way for something new
A bubble, a blob, a splat, a clump
A bloom forms upon making a collective sound
While the bustling pressure denies details
These breaths, these cells
Streams of blood; thinning and clotting
Thoughts and views and spewing momentum
Fulcrum lifting these crates to cohesion