Purple
dominates the frame

purple curls
and flourishes

the naked eye
turns to buds and stems

and although
at this moment

we are deep
in a bed of lavender

our mind
and our eye

spirits  us beyond
these flowers

to modest
grass and trees of green

then lifts us
skyward and onward
to kingly royal blue

© Whit Howland 2019

They're in a much better place
now

flying steady
against a steel gray sky

and soft white
clouds

and the more they
soar

the more they
shed to

just essence
ideas and current

flowing through
the telephone wires

Whit Howland © 2019

Caught
between drops
and lines

in this storm
there is no
thunder

or lightning
just many questions
about

where rain ends
and brain worms and
whimsies begin

Black
or cream and sugar

stirred
so it swirls as the steam rises

drinking
morning coffee

what we do
without even seeing

or thinking
a habit

more a morning ritual
so to speak

something long ago
needing and

yearning to be
downgraded to a routine

© Whit Howland 2019

Red with flourishes
and flowers

its long spout
an elephant’s trunk

it sits
at the end of a checkerboard cloth

almost as if
it is ready to be kinged

all while
the mind whistles and jumps over itself

at this early hour
the game calls for a cup of  hot whimsy

Whit Howland © 2019

Something
about a snowy night
changes a boy for life

that late hour where
the air
is lit by a dry white flare

with
branches bare of leaves
but kissed with snow

and his vision now
is spare clear cold
and calculated

© Whit Howland 2019

At the heart
it’s what drives us all

I’ll tap dance by it
noodle around it

I’ll say it
without really saying it

playing cards
with names like

Boardwalk
or Marvins Gardens

bold yellows and blues
simple plain

but still appealing
to the eye

eliciting spinning
cherries and sevens

yet I’m still beating around
the bush

it’s not the root
of all evil

nor is it the love of it
but more the lust

© Whit Howland 2019

Warmth is what we feel
and it comes from the heart

where there is a light
within

and that light
radiates out

to the sky
and the hills

skaters
are just figurines

more like set dressings
for this scene

what we feel precedes
what we see

© Whit Howland 2019

blue waves
roll one
after the other

in the distance
a cluster
of tropical palms

although native girls
and outriggers
try to distract us

we are drawn
to the  dormant but imposing
presence of Diamond Head

paradise is fleeting
and as always
time is ever short

We are stuck
in the middle of somewhere

just prairie grass and blue sky
with a ubiquitous buttery sun

front and center is a barn
big and red

its  hue
meant to wake you up

and much like hot coffee
it burns the soul

leaving little time comfort
or room to philosophize

what we see
has always been what we get

© Whit Howland 2019