hard rain…

memories
rain upon a tin roof
so gentle at first
almost soothing
but
as night hours linger
dark clouds begin to gather
and the rain pours down
harder than when
they were not memories
somehow
returning pain is stronger
than its first moments
were we not taught
that time heals all
but
apparently not
the pain of memories
in the night

 

spring #15…

i
with the originality
of
all preschool youths
call
my irish setter
red
red
one spring day
chased
me up
one
of
the farm’s
fence post
and
kept me there
that’s
when
i saw
the snake
guess red
knew
a pup
when he saw one
next
spring
we moved to city
one day
when
i was home alone
while
mom
went a couple of doors down
to visit
my aunt
red
bit someone
trying to enter the house
mom
said
she had to
put red
to sleep
i learned
two things
i don’t like cities
and
not all snakes
are
in
the country

 

spring #3…

even in cold rain
they held hands
warmed
no doubt
by
thoughts
of spring’s passion
and
those sweet promises
made before
each kiss
that
nothing
could ever separate them
as
they reached
the front porch
a light came on
and then
her father
opened
the door

 

phase shift…

i know
where
i began
and
that
there is
an end
i can recall
the heights
of joy
and
still
can feel
the pain
of
my
deepest sadness
i wonder
do i
divide
those by 2
or
do i
use
the years
i’ve lived
in
this
equation of life
but
more importantly
where
am
i now

 

recurrent…

we linger in dreams
quite aware
the new day has begun
for
sounds of morning
intrude upon
our lover’s conversation
that
conversation
that was
never held
nor
that gentle embrace
an embrace
we refuse to surrender
as light
nudges us apart
too soon
the spell of night
is gone
and
the new day
with its
demands
of
our consciousness
begins to erase
all traces
of the dream
but
at the end of the day
we rush
to keep
an unknown
appointment