We watched you sweep the kitchen floor,when the notion to do so would occur.Your frustration cut to the core,with worn-out sighs and murmurs. Through grinded teeth, you bent your back.The job had to be done . . .And now and then a burdened breathwould push the drudgery on. Between the chairs and under the table,You … Continue reading Dust
Poetry
The Land of Leaning Pines
They are somber and wise,With roots which barely uphold them.Their bark and bones bending,Brittle, breaking . . . It is the damp season,their gunfire-like crack muted,in wait of the hot hard summer ahead. Lovely and leaning,With a strange restless readiness about them.It is time, or it will be soon. They have earned their wrinkles and … Continue reading The Land of Leaning Pines
Can we ever truly set anything in stone?
Can we ever truly set anything in stone?Life seems to get the best of all things,even stone! From floor to ceiling,cracking, crumbling– every great structure we have built,along with their great foundations,collapse,eventually . . . The beams that buttressedour great ceilings,now burden our backs like crosses,threatening to crush us beneath their weight, But we are … Continue reading Can we ever truly set anything in stone?
La città
I walk through sun-baked stony alleyways,And overhear the buzzing of Italian voicesin their kitchens and dining rooms.Something is always stirring –what better time to discuss it than over lunch? I hear them humming in their hives,Chattering, gossiping, and laughing.If their queen is content,Why should there be any reason for them to stop? Still, a storm … Continue reading La città
Ginger
Our cat set out at night; he has somewhere to be. I lie awake wondering where . . . My thinking turns to dreaming, and I dream of old Ginger. His tail raised, paws padding softly along the roads. The roads glow with the moon’s reflection (it rained today). He doesn’t mind – he plods … Continue reading Ginger
Ardent Writing 