Friday, December 28, 2012

Rock Bed

Full marble moon
rolls snow shadows
across high Christmas chaparral.

A million moth fat flakes
fly in the face of a driven man,
wise tomorrow.

Short visit.
Long road ahead,
and beside the unblinking
lane change.

Family tree, measured
in miles. Our pace,
our place on the King's highway,

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Apron Strings

The sweet part of an onion
stings. When you won't
call home, I cut slices
under water.

Setting plates around the table
one breaded breast enough for two,
but not enough for Christmas.

Heaven invites us to save
a chair, the number of chairs
to make a party, astronomical.

Old wounds don't need salt.
Grace, a feast for the eyes.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Silver Lining

The closest hawk 
cuts a silhouette against  milk clouds.

The horizon, half sea and half water reflected,
swallows the swell of the ocean at bay.

A kayak arrows to the sun's roll in the waves,
paddle length dripping back
to glide.

Worship is a tidal ventricle
pumping the planet's peace.

Jealous turtles surrender the shore to
muck boots in chorus, a choir of pink whispers
before the set.

Nature trumps the natural way of thinking,
it's the breath taking secret 
of the breath giver.