October 22, 2013
The sharpened clink of a coffee cup,
as saucer and beverage interrupt.
A noisy blend of steam and grind,
so oft a harbor for the work taxed mind.
A rich warm fragrance fills the air,
of any café anywhere.
But you descend on dry-roast wing,
and fill my veins with pure caffeine.
You carry my troubles away from me,
Oh barista and valkyrie.
October 15, 2013
Between Autumn's whispered breeze, and naked arms of maple trees.
Under a waxing moonlit sky, my father heard a trebled cry.
A snarled bark split through the fog. He ordered "Son secure the dog."
I muzzled Duncan and shut the door, paws pounded at the floor.
I asked "What is it, has something died?" "Get my gloves." He replied.
"The leather ones and a light!" my pulse quickened that fevered flight.
I returned short out of breath, with gloves to work life or death?
The flashlight lit his fingertips, talons turned within his grip.
A rattled rustle of wire mesh, a creature clothed in feathered flesh.
Magnificent struggling coiled mess, a predacious prince nonetheless.
An Owlet young a fledge at best, in chicken wire from wings to breast.
Gently hands unwound, my father's breath a soothing sound.
The raptor resigned to its fate, allayed its fears for a freer state.
Gauntlet griping cradle touch, wild night beast my father's clutch.
There he held with one strong hand, our sentinel wings slightly fanned.
Low he said " take the other glove", its wide eyes cast light above.
He handed me without a word, this giant silent pensive bird.
Still it searched both our eyes, then the limbs and the skies.
Pinions poised set to spring, pounds of pressure on loft lift wing.
A second split in savage flight, born through the air into the night.
To reside alit in these, ancient bows of maple trees.
September 30, 2013
(Another day I almost died)
Thank God for every single breath,
a sliver's slice, twixt life and death.
A fulcrum pin that holds at bay,
Paper thin this precious day.
A mirror's width and single glance,
Shallow scratch sans happenstance.
"This is your's", I declare.
Never before so awe-aware.
Each light lung-full anther gift.
As clay ribs draw and lift.
Alive, I inhale, again.
September 13, 2013
(To the lost of Maaloula)
Awe as in awful, awe (full) with pure fear.
Pouring in oceans, drowning the dear.
Buildings like waxworks, kissed by the Sun.
Ashen dust drawing deep into lungs.
Cut down cross fire, from every side.
Here in the half light, where half-truths abide.
Assure your firm foreknown, reveal your troth Bride.
Peal back broken instinct of paper thin (now).
Make present your Kingdom, with gleaming gold prow.
Faint and failing this moment of pain.
Folded deeper and richer, made more than the same.
Truer sure founded, roots as living stone.
Known in the marrow quick blood and white bone.
There is a shore, a new place to call home.2 Cor 4:17
September 3, 2013
(a fox love poem)
There in the heather, down near the fen,
Where thistles wile whimsy, and ferns all attend.
Low in the bracken, bramble and brush,
Flowers sing sonnets to the Sun's bashful blush.
Here in the briar as raindrops still fall,
Spring beckons its May morning call.
Troth in affection, both red and white,
Foxes in love, to dawning day light.