lift

in the hollows
and meadows
you call me with the thrushing
of pine needles to inspire

to climb
and place my steps
on familiar ground
pulsating with desire.

bring me closer
to a shared ascent-
where your words, once nestled
in the horizon, peek out
among the clover and the briar.

and we hold each other in the glow
of sunset’s flushed attire.

Whether

calling amid the
intermittent drops
that fall and soak the ground
or
seeing entangled
clouds appear
with the morning light.
not
just as a backdrop
of weather,
but a welcoming
posture
I see coming
into view
awaiting entrance,
her subtle hand
on glass.

soft shoulder

in a moment of thankfulness,
on the arcing turn
where it may be
unstable, and precarious to be
on such an edge-
one part cusp and adamant
yet agreeable
one part adrift, roaming
yet anchored
to each other-
in this moment of his gratitude
held while leaning
into her arching turn.

*********************
A sign I see every day driving to work that warns of the roadway perils became a poem.

The Caretaker

I’ve planted my gardens, the seedlings are nestled in soil.
Their placement in sunshine and shade impacting the toil
of the growth and the fruit that they bear.
All I can now do is tend to the water and care
of the ground and the branches where the issue resides
and pray that fair weather and gain will intensify.
That one day these young for which I’ve aided and viewed
will grow with abandon, and with their sustenance accrued
plant their own gardens and remember the day
of planting and harvesting love in their own unique way.

****************
Not sure of what to call this yet. And I think it is a sonnet in the making. Right now, though, it expresses a profound sentiment in this poet’s life.

debris/hubris

I’ve noticed how
you reach for a speck
or a fleck of dust –
a strand of hair –
and remove it;
using your thumb and
middle finger to cinch
then pull away
the stray trinket.

And just as nimbly,
You eye
with a glance,
just on the chance
that some appraisal is not
justified.

Then release -aside-
the interloping bits
that cling-
These things.

********************
I like to observe how people interact – with others, with their surroundings. Sometimes you can infer things by observing behaviour. Sometimes not…

In all, a simple poem with some nice elements.