I can smell the rain coming
As the Texas heat and humidity
That had me held like plastic wrap
Around my face and body loosens;
And the cooler air sinks down to fold us.
I can breathe, feel exhilarated, want life!
Then the downburst!  Like a cow relieving itself
On a flat rock, large drops scatter, loudly, until
The tin on the roof tinkles a melodious song.
In a Texas summer, we live for days like these.

After we fell apart I tried to put the pieces back together.
But they just wouldn't fit, the parts that made you did, just fine.

Not mine,

They no longer belonged so I threw them out.  I grew.
Two weary-worn, tattered lives had lain side by side so long;

I was left to start again, cut new pieces, lay them into a new scene,
One without you, you with your unchanged YOU,

Me ANEW.

What else could I do?

This stillness at dusk, its radiant heat;
The comfort from the soil beneath one's feet;

Dimming light's playful shadows sweet
Which shift and dance and oft' repeat.

Filled to the brim, I am a soul lifted up.
Thus, I rise like a drinking cup.

You, oh Day, have comforted completely
As another page turns in this life sweetly.

Paint the night sky
With my breath
With my soul

Canvass of black velvet
Crystalline drops of mist
An essence eked

Paint the black velvet
**** in
My soul

there is wonder of all kinds
never boring
beating my wings
moon over life

Experiencing love for the first time,
The heart constricts, the throat catches in a dry strangle,

Lightheaded, one grasps to breathe in the dense, thick air.
The full sensory of time and space constricts, pinpointed on the ‘THEM’!

And then you touch and evaporate into a mist of sensory overload.

for Kathrine
She loved every season, getting all that each had to offer.
Sunbonnet on her head, she would venture out into the hot summer garden;

Waiting for the change that would allow pumpkin, turnips,
and greens to be grown in the fall

When the sun would soften and the turning trees begin to feel the coolness.

Then, into the mellowed golden rows she would venture
hoping to gather what summer may have left behind.

Later, in the sharp chill of winter, she would stand in the fallow field
planning out each row and path to spring planting;

Dreaming of abundance.