Moon Lover

Seeking
perfect
balance
of earth
and stars,
no desire
to be grounded
she’ld rather
be on Mars.
Yet when
the sun rises,
division
remains deep,
with the moon
as her lover,
while the rest
of us sleep.

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Ten Thousand Broken Pieces

Let us know the secret
of how to solve the puzzle.
Find your broken pieces
and spread them in a circle.
Begin along the edges, and
work your way inside. A
patch of blue and orange,
becomes a sunset tide.
Rely upon your instincts
to tell you when it’s right;
when strokes of black and grey
emerge as birds in flight,
it’s time to stop arranging
the jig-saw of your soul.
Ten thousand broken pieces
at once becoming whole.

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Primavera

So now we wait,
dying for a ressurection.

A blade or two of grass,
like mini telescopes peeking

above the earth that barely
survived Winter’s death.

The morning mist of anticipation.
That once frozen lake,

now rippled with reflection,
waves of purple, yellow, and green.

And still we wait,
for daffoldils to say hello.

The daring ones among
the first to be reborn.

That scent of earth,
and rain, and sun.

A subtle hint,
a mere detection

of Spring’s invitation
to every snowbird.

Come for the awakening,
the vernal celebration.

Take flight, the North
no longer sleeps.

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Jacquie in Pink

She wore a pink suit
That morning in Dallas
As black and white film
Recorded the malice.

Adorned at the oath
Of a new President,
And the following day
As the casket was sent.

She gazed at the blood,
Laid the suit in a box,
Though history’s pleading
It’s imprisoned by locks

In the National Archives
For one hundred years,
Her bloody Chanel
Soaked in Camelot’s tears.

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