Posted in life, Poetry

Cold Whispers

They all wait

for the warm weather

and the better times

and opportunities to

be “themselves” in public space

and all  I can think

is how maybe the cold is

easier;

No one wants to talk

when their heads are down

and their teeth chatter

and their only motivation

is getting to where it’s warm.

Cold is a friend that

whispers often

but never so loud as when everyone else

has nothing to say.

Posted in New Work, Poetry, Uncategorized

Evening Out

Evening, Ma’am, Sir.
Evening walks
to nowhere in particular
and everywhere I’m going.

Evening coffee,
evening meal…
Evening matinees awaken the sky,
as sun sets
horizon alight with gold and orange;
rose and wine and blue.

Evening – shadows.
Moon is rising
the wanes of Gibbous
in half…

Evening, crickets –
how melodic your trill.

Evening
is the middle between
[the] time to rest
and trying to be

still.