Linguipotence

Have you heard?
Hold a raindrop.
Peel apart the petals
clasped within.

Count the flowers
tumbling down
through this long interlude
of rain.

Infinite vibrant colors
lie hidden in the clear,
in the white haze between here
and the far tree line

bereft of leaves,
clothed only in droplets
trailing down
to the brown winter ground.

Hold breath
until the spring. Watch the sky,
alternating ashen gray and blue-faced,
fade away to night.

Night after night
until the gift arrives
of warm light dappled color
glowing through the green,

rising through our shoes
and raining blossoms down.
None of it seems possible now
but that’s the word.

=====

I should be saving all these for some theoretical publication, but I never do.

For dVerse Open Link Night 129

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Refresh

Dusk drinks down
October rain,
autumn color,
the road ahead

which shortens
to a halogen halo
seen through the slap
of windshield wipers.

Follow the staccato pulse
of the yellow center line.
Tunnel through night.
Reach home

to snug beneath a blanket
and dream daylight
until it pours the world
back around the house

as if we never traveled in darkness,
as if nothing were ever lost.
===

For @dVersePoets Open Link Night.

Maps

Were always lines
cast toward lands
I’d one day see. Whole worlds
rested within a dot,
and there were always more
dots (beyond rivers, past oceans)
marked London, Beijing, Paris, Canberra,
Rome, Reykjavik, an endless catalog
of possibility.

The blue passion of Pacific
Ocean isles, white distance
falling away from Everest,
tan grasses swimming
over African savanna.

Age shrinks hope
to a cold, hard longing
as I flip pages
of vast distance
never crossed.

A Sonnet

Home

After submerging order, light, the day—
A soldiery of doubt usurps hope’s place,
Soon nestled sly amid the pulsing gray
Nerve ends where soul meets sky.  In dark I trace
Each tender face I’ve cast aside through lies
And bitter rage disguised as honest love.
A shudder, chill regret: does grief make wise?
This empty desert the sagebrush scours rough
Cannot remain my home.  A woodland glen
Sways with wildflowers due north.  I travel slow
To slough my skin and walk, a man again.
I thread a path too old for me to know.
aaaThe heavens wheel about the north star’s light.
aaaI aim for there.  I tread the breeze all night.