NOT AFRAID OF THE DARK
From the darkness came the light
Big and bright to make the day
Small and slight to pierce the night
From the darkness came a way
To see the light, one’s own right
Without the darkness who would know
The difference light intends to show
Without the light who would see
That darkness might need to be
The wood is boldly lit by a western sun
Sting chants a Desert Rose
Few leaves remain, clinging to branches
Water pools in low land
Reflecting clear sky
By rotting umber foliage
The planet rotates
As the light does evanesce
A sombre mood ensconces
The wood darkly
It has begun
A summer sun
Slinking southward in the sky
As chlorophyll does die
A frost is on the air
With temperature spare
The growing season gone
Shroud of winter won
The minutes of this respite swiftly steal away
Dappled light on the whitewashed walls wanes
Tepid temperatures harbinger winter soon to come
A symphony of insects chitter a beleaguered song
Hoary men measure the tilting axis of the earth
Foliage quavers from an indifferent breeze
Voluminous cumulus clouds hover harvested fields
Red sun promises to disappear at the rotating fold
Slumber solicitous sweeps solitarily all away
As the summer solstise sun
Lights my verdant canopy
A new season has begun,
A hopeful and a happy one.
A breeze tickles the shining leaves
As they reflect their brilliant leafy green,
While the massive globe slants and heaves;
A significant shift; fifty-nine times I’ve seen.
One minute less, each day, to light the bay.
Tilting not so slowly in another direction
Casting erstwhile shadows to another way,
Under perpetual radiation, like orbit anon.
Infinite green leaves burst over night
From buds that formerly held tight
Generous new life sprung into spring
A southern breeze; branches swing
Angled axis solar spasm
NEW HOME IN THE SUN
There is a band playing in a turret of the castle of my mind.
Thinking about what you had said; knowing it was a lie.
Playing against Mother Nature; probing, hoping for a find.
Lying crippled from all attempts; under scrutinizing eye.
An insincere queen reigns in a self proclaimed driver’s seat.
Deeming laughter and drumming as almighty sin against God.
Labored, accrued and paid for by peasants without meat.
Her, wicked guffaw, exempt, ringing loud and feigned: odd.
In a dream, I waited, while entertaining a love affair with the moon.
All in a dream, placated, waiting for the sun to shine.
Asleep, daydreaming, of a Mother Nature soon to swoon.
Awake, the sun burst through on a silver sea: mine.