My Shadow

I haven’t seen my shadow today.

I think it may have run away.

A day ago we fought a bit,

And I said I was sick of it!

Now, I think I miss that guy . . .

Though, not enough that I might cry,

But just enough to look for him

In places where the light is dim.

Advertisements

Quarter Notes

IMG_4758

French Quarter, New Orleans

 

Notes in the French Quarter

On her yellow recorder.

Not a tune, not a song,

But they belong

In a city where music lives.

Poisoned Brine

Manchester, Maryland

Manchester, Maryland

I cast the words in your direction,
on barbed hooks, with vile bait.
I waited at the water’s edge,
and I learned a bit too late—
that all I had intended was to
catch and throw you back,
but the words had been so hateful
that the waters had turned black,
and you were dying in the deep,
while I stood with rod and line,
wishing I could reel back
words that poisoned brine.

Half Awake

 

Where only darkness heard me scream,
in that awkward state, half awake,
I fought to shake a poisoned dream.

So lonely, wretched, was the theme,
I feared that I would simply break
where only darkness heard me scream.

But I was tangled, it would seem,
in the coils of a satin snake.
I fought to shake a poisoned dream.

My senses slow, my pulse extreme,
my hands and lips began to quake,
where only darkness heard me scream.

Frantic, I searched for any beam
of moonlight. For sanity’s sake,
I fought to shake a poisoned dream,

that drowned me in a wicked stream,
and caused my heart and soul to ache.
Where only darkness heard me scream,
I fought to shake a poisoned dream.