Before the chicory unfurls to the sun,
meet me down the gravel road
beneath the Tulip Poplar.

I will Revel in your aura-
Share my radiance with you.
Our beautiful friendship gleaming.

Exchanging love in the purest form,
the way that we relate.
Laughter dancing in our eyes

If the world saw things differently
We could do this everyday.

Until then,
We’ll look forward to next summer
If only for Thursday.

Up before the birds
Have anything to say, preferring--
Except the owls--
Daylight to this protracted night
And none of them in the odd habit or need
Of recording that which might not otherwise
Be remembered, this linear
Declension of an oral pass along.
The cats are glad for an early meal,
Before returning to their torpor,
And my lover--whom I'm careful
Not to rouse--
Has better sleeping habits than
My own,
And will listen,
Once the birds are singing,
To this redacted song.

Why must I always think in verse?
Is it a talent?
More like a curse
All day long songs pour through my head
But before they hit paper, they're usually dead
A few survive, most get archived and others quickly deleteted
It doesn't take more than a couple of lines to know you've been defeated