last night, out of reverence
for olden days,
my girl on holiday,
sat around a kitchen table,
with the boys from school,
swilling beers, chowing
leftover barbecue.

driving home to a mellow
beat of dear coltrane,
sucked in sweet night air,
cooled by the now passed rain –
breaking the day’s humidity.

vowing not, to let
nature escape me,
slept in the grass
a shrine, a candle, and
a stick of opium,
a cigarette wafting me
to sweet sleep.

enwrapped in down cocoon,
on top of lounge chair,
keeping dry, from the still
rain damp grass;

awakened by first sun break,
transforms the sky from indigo
to a sweet cerulean;
saw a pair of skunks
dancing in morning dew,
scarlet cardinal chirps,
a morning mating

to a distant lover,
echoing back the call;
heard the first train whistle
from linden station,
taking monday commuters
to city jobs,
heard trucks, and automobiles,
on nearby highways –

morning had begun.


red morning

red raining sky
a broken swing
dangles from a limb
what shadow does
the forest hide
darkness in her eyes

dos cafés

sultry saxophones pianos grand
last sip of the evenings wine
two coffees large and sweet
fingers dance on ivory and brass
joy before the busy wakes
distance means nothing
and everything

to share a porch
on mountains overlooking
to hike their paths by day
at night the stars to sleep beneath
a cottage framed with hammocked trees
beauty is what beauty sees