I think of you on warm summer evenings
when our slowly setting sun coats
dappled oaks in more shades than I can count,
and every leaf is framed in greengold.

I think of you as sleepy wind
lingers in my hair,
strands dancing on a moment,
before laying to rest by a collarbone peak.

I think of you when the warmth settles on my skin
so easily that I see myself
spill out into the dusky air,  
finally weightless.

I think of you.

The sun
It shines brightly some days.
Causing eyes to squint,
Skin to burn,
Sleeves to roll up.

Other days is peeks behind clouds.
A shy child in a new place,
Unsure of their desire to come out and play or hide away.
Teasing us with warmth,
But not staying long.

Some days the sun doesn’t shine at all.
Leaving the clouds to cover the sky,
Like a grey blanket,
Not warm,
But daylight all the same.

People are like the sun.

Some days they uplift each other,
Eyes squinted as laughter flows through them,
Hearts burning with joy,
Huge smiles rolling up the corners of their mouth.

Other days people are in new surroundings.
Shyly trying to meet new people,
To make the right first impression.
Unsure of which decision is the right one,
To choose to go out or stay inside.
Teasing smiles,
A fleeting look.

Some days people are less happy.
Absent minded,
Stuck inside their heads.
Letting the world continue around them,
Not present,
But here all the same.

Someone can be the sun in your life,
Brightening your days,
Lighting up your world with a smile,
And still be able to cause you pain.

To be your brightest star on your darkest days,
And yet be the reason some days are gloomier than others.

But that also doesn’t mean they aren’t the Sun to you.

I bloom every morning,
With messy hair and yawning,
With all my thought start aborning.
At this time the enthusiasm is always high,
So, for a beautiful day to all lazziness should say bye.

you remind me of sunsets and hearths
that stretch on the line
where empyrean touches the earth.

the golden strokes with hints of red hues
blended with purples, crimsons, and daisies
reflect itself from the rhythmic
glowing collision of ocean waves
like sepia photographs.

as the last bright rays
fade into the night,
it rests a promise before it lifts
the blanket of velvet twilight.

from the horizon
you see the heaven articulating its thoughts,
“paradise is not where the sky meets the ocean,
it lies on your presence,”

i stay lost in you for a little longer.

The balm of sun and charcoal smoke
instantly evoke lost togetherness
from the very first time in the eighties
when beguiled by a well fired banger
and Russ Abbot opined a party

Hold fast to the Proustian rush
as soon enough the dim seasons will return
and the muted, sterile days withhold
all but a sense of cold and pause,
so revel in the glut and sing

May’s departure reminds us
That winter’s wool jacket
Has been replaced
With spring’s fabric sandals

The morning frost
That caked our windshields
Is now but a glossy dew
That lays upon the grass

The late December chill
That weathered our flesh
And consumed our warmth
No longer can feast

June’s prelude will refresh us
The endless sunshine and subtle breeze
Will nourish us in preparation
For winter’s arrival once again

I don't like
the shrill excitement of sirens
warning me of what's to come.
I would prefer
melancholy raindrops
tapping hints into my window from the sun.
I can go without a quick start
with the false hope of an emergency.
Please, just lift me gently
and promise me that there's no urgency
when you wake me for the day.