loose gravel crunching loudly beneath me transposes
into the soft thudding of my feet against the soil.
the meadow, my old friend, greets me
with a whispering wind. we are both happy.

the sun dips just below the horizon,
watercoloring the sky in lilacs and siennas.
cicadas converse around me, as I am
but a guest at their lovely hillside home.

the cotton-swab clouds part, and the moon debuts.
she is pure, unsullied radiance. with the stars as backup,
and the sky as her stage, she pirouettes, beginning
her nightly routine. tears glide down my cheeks.

rich plums of dusk fade into the dark navies of night,
and my head sinks into pillowy grass.
my eyelids become lead, and the sandman arrives.
everything is quiet, and this peace is eternal.

you fell for me during summer
when i was in full bloom,
when i was open, loving.
ready to face the world.
you fell for me
as i was splashing in the icy waters
of the Jersey Shore,
holding onto setting suns
and tanned legs.

you first felt me fade in Fall,
my leaves crinkling, crumpling.
dying before your very eyes.
i guess you could say that’s when
you saw my true colors,
browns and burgundies and rusty siennas.
i was still warm to the touch, though,
and i reminded you of summer.

it was winter when we
cracked like ice,
those shards slicing our hearts like
Jack Frost paid our freezing love
a visit.  
i remember the cold in my heart,
the ache from the lack of warmth,
the frigid aura
surrounding anything i touched.
that’s when the yelling started;
snow falling so fast and heavy
we were up to our eyes in it
before we could even take a breath.

it is Spring now,
and i am thawing, healing.
i have planted my apologies like wildflowers,
everywhere—
but nowhere on purpose.
i promise you— soon,
i will bloom again.

I saw a butterfly today.
Fluttering in daylight
Jewel of the sky

I was compelled
To speak with this butterfly
To know what thought
A butterfly would have

With her colors shifting left and right
Making the world jealous of her beauty
With an arrogant air
She ignored me

Stayed out of my reach
I eventually gave up.
My march no match for the vibrant colors
That loudly ignored me as I chased

As I tried to catch my breath
I found a moth on a bench.
She did not run away when I sat next to her.
She looked to be off in thought or severe concentration.
But my curiosity was stronger

“Why are you sitting here?”
                                            “I’m blending in to confuse the predators”
“Is it working well for you?”
                                            “It has thus far”

I examined the moth and found
Her artsy array was a profound example
Of nature’s artistic talents.
Browns and mahoganies and siennas galore.





“Why are you different than the butterfly?”
                                                    “­She is flashy and loves the attention. I like being invisible.
We each found something that works for us.”
To each its own I suppose.