the foxtail stands tall,
honeysuckle blooms lay dead,
days grow longer still.
hot wind rattles, leaves
grasses bent to acquiesce
the truncated night.
summer cusp
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Monthly Archives: May 2013
Learning to walk
with small hands wrapped around
a father’s thumbs,
looking out onto a horizon
of -things-
yet undefined to a young mind
move to the edges
sounds and things,
as destinations.
Mommy claps.
Just yesterday, you would have lunged
on all fours,
but today you took that step
upright,
foot slung forward
slightly sideways,
and unsure of the placement of it.
Daddy holds on,
as a stride begets another,
and wanting to drop to the floor
you hang on to the moment
and balance
to repeat what you have learned.
Tomorrow, you run.
As a bouquet
Tufts of
petals surround
the beveled rim of a vase,
spilling out into the space,
aware the rounding
is concealed,
yet within reach.
A bloom lifted
forward, caressed
in a blush of pink
and underneath,
a fluted edge
traced
with calloused
fingers.
feint
after you
draw the blinds
and shade your eyes
in elegance,
mirror my words,
and mouth them in a pallid
whisper with the dusk,
just before
the stars appear
in Lyra,
and the music
wiles.
Blues under the wheelbarrow
The white chicken
longs for
her li’l red rooster,
and cries
pooling tears
-same as the rain water-
on the barnyard floor
for a day.
***************
Inspired by William Carlos Williams poem XXII (The Red Wheelbarrow) and The Little Red Rooster, a blues standard, recorded by Howling Wolf.
A thanks to the good folks at WordPress for selecting my blog for Freshly Pressed feature and thanks to all who have dropped in via “Freshly Pressed.” I hope you like the poetry. Please feel free to visit often and comment.
Taps and Ratamacues 