The golden drops of dew
Shimmer in the sunlight
Casting a glow over the
     expanse of lawn
Green and gold paving a path
Silken carpets in the haze
     of the morning light

Trees bursting with life
Filled with leaves
Dark green opalescence
     awaiting their destiny
As days move toward another season
Bringing a cornucopia of color,
     bountiful and bold

Lingering remnants of summer
Mixed with precursors of fall
As days shrink and sundown
     creeps closer to the dawn
Twilight casting shadows on lawns
Another day and another season
     blending one into another

8/16/19

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The day drifted by
Or flew by
Hard to decipher
Work obliterates thought
In a stream of consciousness
Unconsciousness
Pursuing goals
As an end unto itself
Shapeless
Racing from one entity to another
Without connections other than themselves
Each one tied to the central theme
Yet independent
And drifting
Their own haphazard ideas
Played against the venues afforded each one
And seeking the end of their journey
In a new reality
Fulfilled by the drifting of time

8/19/19

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A cool breeze assaults the heat
     of another summer afternoon
Bringing relief and a hint
     of fall lingering on the horizon
A new season cooling the air
     and painting the trees a myriad of hues
Festival glories revisiting daydreams
     with harvests and goblins and beer fests galore
A time for reflection as days slowly shorten
     and nights cool for sleeping content and relaxed
As fall reawakens splendid sensations
     of cool breezes assaulting another summer day

8/12/19

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Going backward to go forward
Finding my true identity
The hidden core
That represents my reality
Overgrown with twists and turns
Carrying me in wrong directions
Swimming upstream
Pummeled by the surf
Battered by rapids
Working on goals
That seemed long forgotten
But only frozen by cryogenics
Waiting in the wings
Hoping to be rediscovered
Looking in the mirror
To another dimension
Past the vortex
That remains transitory
Fleeting moments pointing the way
To look backward
And go forward

The journey began under a cloudy sky with rain hovering over the horizon. – Going back. – The painter saw the vision. Was it real? Or Was it just the shadow of the storm? The painter saw the canvass. Forms danced before his eyes. Thunder clapped in the distance. The brush moved to the rhythm of the storm that only the painter heard. A lifeline from the clouds like an umbilical cord. – Going back. – The painter focused again. The clouds thickened, blackening against the horizon in anticipation. – Going back. – The painter saw himself. He’d stopped painting. Now going back. – Going back. – The painter wondered. The painter asked himself. The painter took a brush, squeezed paint on the palette; color after color – a new variety. – Going back. – The unknown. A new beginning. – Going back. – The white of the canvass and the blackening sky. The storm. Pure color. Mixing color as the storm moved closer. A clap of thunder. The painter looked at the sky. The painter dabbed the brush onto the palette. Rain began. The brush danced to a rhythm. Thunder claps. Sweeping across the sky; sweeping across the canvass. – Going back. – The painter looked at his painting. The painter looked at the sky. The painter was happy. – Going back.

8/13/19

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I stay,
go,
stand,
sit,
walk,
remain still,
sleep,
wake,
laugh,
cry,
speak,
remain silent.

www.brucelevine.com
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07485W4Q1

Foraging through lists is a constant reminder
of the haphazard as well as the fulfilled.
The transitory reclaims reality in a circle of tenacity,
yet only the beginnings of momentum.
Life moves forward marking minutes in its path,
and days on the calendar revealing the prophecy;
written in hieroglyphics in the clouds, floating yet everlasting.
Destiny forever fixed in a sky filled with vapor,
like driftwood washed up on a beach to be resurrected,
recycled and reclaimed.
A sculpture created by the sea.
A mirror of the universe,
set in the sand, grafted together.
Intertwined with the proximity of the future;
contained in the lists;
perused and pursued forever.
An entity as one.

8/1/19


www.brucelevine.com
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