In a lonely place where blackbirds cry,
where the brave young hearts lie down to die.
Like summer blooms in fall must bend,
those lonely lives in bleakness end.

The cold gray autumn days gone by,
in a lonely place where blackbirds cry,
The heaviness where sorrow grows,
where ghosts of those who’ve passed are known.

Your spirits call across the way,
lamenting days where life decays.
In a lonely place where blackbirds cry,
where such young lives wave sad goodbyes.

Now with the past you’re laid to rest,
your shadows and your sad bequest.
At last the blood has all run dry,
in a lonely place where blackbirds cry.

October moon, oh harvest moon,
that’s come and gone but far too soon,
for summer sings its last goodbye,
within the stillness of the night.

When shadows fall beyond the trees,
when life still stirs within their leaves,
and music of the evening cries,
within the stillness of the night.

Far from the realm of everyday,
stars dance the moonlit night away,
and lovers' hearts each still descry,
within the stillness of the night.

October moon, oh harvest moon,
within the stillness of the night.

Like a gentle, warm summer breeze,
you brushed away my tears,
and kissed the bloodied knees
of that child so long ago.

You hugged away the broken heart
of this teen, growing up before you
and almost made me imagine
a life in which I’d feel whole again.

With loving-kindness you listened
and soothed the angst
of this young woman,
struggling in a world alone.

And as we said our last goodbye,
you gently smiled away my tears,
quietly reassuring me we’d meet again
someday beyond the clouds.

Now, your spirit has found me once again,
like the memory of that summer breeze,
softly brushing away the tears of the child I hold inside,
and whispering of a mother’s undying love.

You call to me from the corner of my room
where you  slumber,
imploring me to take you in my arms
and stroke you once again.

I dream of poets who came before,
of Cohen and Frost, Angelo and Dylan.
Poets who colored our hearts
with magic few could err forget.

They speak to me once again
in whispered voices,
entreating me to sing my own song
and make my voice heard.

I carefully take you in my arms
caressing you once again,
like a long-lost lover, singing softly,
drawing out your hidden melodies.

Spring slipped you on
amidst a ballet of flowers,
dancing under trees,
lemon-yellow in pointe shoes.

Island song greets the day
wafting through the treetops,
along with the sounds of nature
calling me out to revel in its beauty.

Radiant yellow-green, the shade of early spring,
grows endlessly about.
Hues of a pristine land, bejeweled in blooms,
tug at my spirit.

A lost paradise,
left behind in my memory,
with its song of the elders,
whispers to me one last time.

Sleeping willows awaken in spring,
begin to grow their chartreuse shade.
New branches stretch down,
creating ripples on a lake in a fireworks of new color.

Choke cherry branches filled with
last year’s freeze-dried fruit,
burst with fresh new life
and life’s possibilities

Spring birds warble,
calling out for partners,
singing soothing songs of nature,
in harmony with May breezes.

Grass, painted green with new life,
provides a canvas for wildflowers,
as dandelion and marsh marigolds
gain their footing in its sparse carpet.

Collecting memories, I soak in the
warmth and sounds of spring.
Letting its breeze
       carry me away
                   to happier days.