The Harvester

Out of sleep and beyond my window
The old maple is upset today-
It sways restlessly, like a dreamer
Reminding the wind to behave itself
In the company of an elder-
I've spent my days beneath that majesty,
Planting Autumn questions among ancient roots
And waiting patiently
For Spring's emerald sutras to unroll themselves in the sun
Swaying gently over hungry fields
As dawn rises
To collect her precious toll of dew-

Leaves And Leaving

I wasn't trying to make things simple
I know you don't believe in that-
The way an afternoon becomes an evening
And how we could see it together
Laughing long or in silent ease,
Is what made me stay-

Maybe that was unfashionable
And maybe it was just bad timing-
My karma isn't as flexible
As your convenient theories-
Though in this August heat, I'm liable to believe anything
Except that it was a mistake to love you-

A Quiet Universe

You were here again last night,
Sliding through my mind
Like some ancient ocean current-
And I might have held you, but like your element,
Flowing on ceaselessly under the moon,
Your body obeyed its nature-

I was looking out for you, as though it were my purpose,
Like following a ghost across the surface of the sun-
And it seemed to me a hopeless mythology,
These midnight journeys
Undertaken, not for Helen,
But for the beauty of the sea-

Purity Against Resolve

In the end, it will be you
Making up the stories of this world-
And if what is true and good,
Is what brings truth and goodness,
Then love is the only lesson worth learning-

For we love as we are,
Not as we're told-
And there's courage and there's fear
And so what?
Freedom is no orphan-

But there is sacredness too,
Lying impervious in some forest clearing,
Out beyond the shabby walls of progress-
Or staring into you like a lover,
Dreaming, as you dream, of happiness-

A Light On The Dock

If it were simply a question of need,
I'd have buried your name
With the rest-
They speak to each other in that place,
But not to any light I recognize
Their voices fading out
Before my ear can reach them-

And whatever exists of those silver mornings
Resides in our graves-
I never imagined the memory
Of a long pondered cherry tree
Would usurp my devotion to your silence-
Though now, in midsummer
Only cicadas write their stories on the wind-

A Dream Of Flight

It was easier not knowing;
To be born like a star, so pure,
Swallowing the darkness;
I was your dying breath,
The one that choked you
As you tried to say goodbye;

I shine now as you wanted,
For I can be nothing else;
Without guidance or sign,
A child still,
Rising small and golden
On borrowed wings~

A Bond

You're not the rebel, brother;
I know the tattoos seem a transgression,
But you are dearly loved;
And if you find me walking alone,
Sooner than you needed,
It's only to save myself;
For when the seas rise
To drown the obedient,
We will all be rebels;
The bad sons, and willful daughters
Of a dying world;