The storm came through with fierce winds
a large limb fell off our tree
as I inspected the damage
my neighbor joined me in his bare feet.
We chatted about the dove
perched high in the tree
about the variety of trees in our yard
and other musings
in a long peaceful conversation
as we sat on our neighbor’s retaining wall.

As I write I think about how conversations like this
on cool fall days and in the midst of summer
act as retaining walls
for the social landscape of our town
strengthening the links that bind.

sunrise on the river
a million stars
2 fishing poles
and my brother

golds sink down
the sky strange magics
miraculous the bridges
of leaves under October’s
wintry dusks calm and at rest
russet and purple the
trees yearn for the darks
of a retreating world
each leaf falling forever
each leaf a ghost
of hidden centuries
where the night’s eternal
stars wait, beautiful
in the perfections of the sky.

morning star carved
out of thin white mist in a
sky that sings
of pale blues
and autumn’s
soft sighs, the
beautiful layering
cloud, silhouettes
of light breeze.

leaves drifting
down dark lanes
that curve where the stream
dreams of the soft blues
of a sky that melts with
forgotten passions
and the greyer mists
of day dream
and the clouds
with their moods
of the wind and
their fields of
air, drift until
the sky winds
its streams of blue.

dream of a dark
sky, where the ocean
with its gentle pull
gathers the mosses
of the waves, unravels
and drifts in gold pools
full of moon and love.