When fire heralds the day
and the lava of dawn boils over the world
what urgency seethes
to be heeded.
Category Archives: morning
May 23.19
Doesn’t purple burn?
Doesn’t it melt
languid
into gold?
Apollo stokes
the coals of dawn
gilding the sky
with alchemy.
January 24.19
Night lingers
in cobalt shadow
while stars dawdle
on winter’s bones.
January 12.19
Breakfast is served
if you’re not too picky
if you don’t think slimy
pondweed is icky
if you’ll brave the snow
and duckgooseflesh
you’ll savor an entrée
delectably fresh.
(Well, at least I didn’t make any cold duck jokes.)
Disconnections: September 16.18
Pond pixels at dawn
play at reflecting
rippling jigsaw
its own dawn confecting.
Disconnections: August 25.18
When morning sparkles
nothing is finer
than breakfast al fresco
at the pondside diner.
Disconnections: July 24.18
Some of us know it
from school days gone by
the rarified glow
of a holycard sky.
Angels and saints
no laggards allowed
canopied ever
by holycard cloud
its edges alive
with a peachy-gold hue
it had to be thus —
plain white wouldn’t do.
It all seemed marshmallowy
pretend, and ideal,
but I see it right now
undeniably real.
A word about holycards: they were tokens of acknowledgement given out in Catholic schools ever so long ago. They all depicted role models. Kind of like baseball cards but more flowy. And with lilies. In that time a coveted laurel.
