Autumn night's question --
Whether it's rain at my door
Or the beating wind.

A nearly full moon
Rests on a shelf of cold air.
Deep quiet of dusk.

Warmth is what we crave, our hearts fuel to the fire, caressing one another's flesh, taking each other higher, fight my bruising kisses, let me tease you as I mar, that which I do worship, every heartbeat, every scar, cage my hand inside yours, hold me tighter than you dare, constrict around my heart my love, it's open and it's bared.

The sound of millwrights at work shall remain forever
The turn of the wheel will mingle with white shoal harmonies ,
topwater perch eruptions and birds of every color and euphonic song
Crystal waters displaying painted stones shall remain secured twixt creekside shrubbery , centurion oaks , sweet gum , juniper and tall evergreens ... Native grasses and vivid wildflowers will grace the Cotton Indian shoreline evermore

Not with a blade
Nor with blood on my hands
But with wisdom
And compassion
May I be tyranny’s end

With poetry and prose
With the ink and the rose
With an inkling to know
Just and unjust
Right from wrong
May I be tyranny’s end

With love
Not a bullet
No bombs to blow through it
No glass shattered or metal disfigured
This is what I figured
May a revolution of words
Be tyranny’s end