Under the Sky

News drops like a rain,
like autumn’s last leaves
coming down on the roof.
They do not stop, these
moments of revelation,
the good ones, and the
hard ones, too.

The sky changes all day,
where once there was light,
now there is shadow,
warmth before and now
we reach for blankets
and for one another,
which is to say

let’s do this together.

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The Mother

And so I call my mother
to thank her for
the strength

she gave to me, and also
perhaps especially,
for the joy, because this life

is just a small opening,
a momentary window,
and though

there are shadows
in the dark,
she gave me my hands,

with which to draw back
the curtains
and open eyes to see

the white snow fall
even as this night sky
lights up with morning.

Wild Bloom

Love,
be like raindrops
devoured
by dry earth,
unbridled
as wild flower
blossoms,
and be
consumed
by the scent of it,
the lush of it,
fall back
into fields
of the decadent
bloom
that swallows
our thoughts and the time
in this high untamed
garden
at summertime’s end,
spill
every last petal
of riotous blue
to the black earth
that beckons
all back
to the soil
between
your barefooted
revelrous
roots.

A Straight Up No Reason Joy Kind of Day

Sure, we got
ice cream
and chased
in the grass,
sang songs
so loud
in public,
you covered
my mouth,
but really
what it be,
is the long-
dawned, drawn
out days of
summer spent
in the company
of those who
are smaller
and seeing
things from a
low down
kind of view
that makes
every type of
same old thing
that much more
laugh-making
on a sunshine,
school’s out,
nothing left
to do but
smile and see
the sunset
kind of day.