A familiar scene

Somewhere light plays piano in the background
of that scene, the one that so often
repeats itself.  You know the one
I mean — it starts with the sun embarking
on its customary routine, dancing to a slow tune

through the sky. We feel emboldened to move
with mirrored steps at the rhythm
we choose, back and forth, as
time arcs above us in brilliant currents
of arrows sharpened by the blitzing wind

only to fall below the horizon. And still the familiar
scene continues into the dark as we
share a stage emblazoned
in the afterglow of another imperfect day
made idyllic by blissful notes we always hit as one.

Solar magnet

She draws me in and I feel like a magnet
pulled into that smile. No that may
not be the right word. (Forgive me
for when she folds her lips just so

I am swept stupefied, left
revolving around that fiery red heart of a solar system
desperate to stay in the light
no matter the distance. I feel the void —

the emptiness when she falls out of focus
pushes my orbit awry while starlight
stings like gnats vying for attention, false light
merely pulling me deeper into darkness.)

Ah but she smiles — the gravity of the scene
is more than enough force to black out
all other light and center me where I belong.
No magnet could compete with that attraction.

A cosmic chorus

The lyrical sun meets the day hopefully,
a low trill softly rising like the hum of footsteps
falling on the hillside, bringing goodwill
to those who listen. That subtle, haunting
sound warbles in the ears of humanity,
perched above us but inviting fellowship.

There’s a lesson here, I think — the light
recedes and returns (a tide for the whole
planet not just the flustered oceans)
permitting the moon to hold luminescence
until it illustriously trumpets its return —
an example of civility for deaf ears.

Are we more moon than jelly fish?
Do we hold a mirror to the light, feigning
a warmth we have not within us? Or can we glow
from within, lighting a course for people
to accompany us as we find the chords
to harmonize with the orbiting haloes
circling us in a cosmic chorus?

Sunlight

History shines here, filtered
through the trees and mixing
with the sunlight that warms our
necks just as it did
years ago creating a dense fog
we’ve almost stopped
noticing.

We choose the sun, tickling
our necks as we face
another day, heads held high,
with a long-remembered warmth encircling,
enveloping,
encouraging us onward.

We find the heat, massaging
our chests as we perspire
through the thick air, breathing hard,
with a too-familiar determination warming,
warning,
wearing us onward.

Still, we live in its shadow,
and while we choose to
stay in the light we see
our shadows play longer
though we blindly seek a refuse
from cold breezes
stirring up again.

A loud sunrise

The sun screams from behind
darkened clouds –
a crescendo of deep oranges
bustling just over the horizon.

A din of shaggy clouds hang
higher, standing with a clamor
before the blues of another day
waking up with fresh eyes

and stale breath. We inhale
the new day – the tumult
from another revolution
erupting to wake us, wiping

the night from our eyes –
and blinking, step into the light.

Fade to

The mouse crept beneath a window,
hushed footfalls ringing with regrets –
cheese (oddly placed) left untouched,
cats (strangely absent) go unseen,
cold mists (often intoxicating) left outside.

The moon acts traitor to the day,
exiling sun pillars to memories,
its cryptic desire for dark
in a world teeming with low-lying rodents
(best left unnoticed) puzzles the thoughtful.

We chose the sun (tickling our necks)
as we face another day living
in the audacious light where yesterdays
fade to
today fade
to regrets
fade
and we get another chance
another choice
between cheese or cats or cold mists
or creeping in the night
clamoring for the sun.

And then

A funeral, then the beach –
tastes hot in my mouth,
clinging to top of my mouth,
lingering unwanted
black heat into the void.

The sun insists on spitting
spicy splinters of light,
splashing in my eyes, children
playing on retinas, harmless
and infuriating – such indifference.

A hurricane, then back home –
feels wet on my face,
showering on a young shopping cart
creeping to the bike rack
winding eyes wide in witness.

I dare not wade into
mischievous waters, churning
in the pit of my stomach,
longing for relax, last
to reach the calming land.

Mirrored nature #writephoto

The sun peaks between the timber
unsure, hesitant to reveal
itself fully to an insipid world
too often indifferent
to its nourishing warmth.

And still we look to it
to illuminate the beauty too often
unnoticed – the greens shining
with life, brilliant and glistening
in the early morning.

But the pond holds close its treasures,
refusing to admit
the luminous gleam as we are left
to wonder what mysterious riches
lay submerged,
twirling in the dark

secret celebrations beneath the calm – looking
glass turning beauty
upside down
for our benefit. I dare not
provoke ripples.

sunlight

We chose the sun, tickling
our necks as we faced
another day, heads held high,
with a long-remembered warmth encircling,
enveloping,
encouraging us onwards.

We found the heat, massaging
our chests as we perspired
through the thick air, breathing hard,
with a too-familiar determination warming,
warning,
wearing us onwards.