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Spring Came Regaedless

I am digging in soil right now,

Planting plants I bought months ago.

Months ago when I had enthusiasm for spring

I bought plants with my granddaughter.

On a sunny day in March

She picked out the prettiest ones 

not suited

For my sandy soiled landscape of no sun.

But we bought them,

Brought them home

Placing them near a bright window 

Per the gardener’s instruction,

Waiting for the warmth, but...

Then it got cold...

then I went on a cruise...

then I said hell they will die anyway...

then they didn’t...

so I’m planting them,

Bless their little green hearts,

well into Spring, nearly summer,

In my sunless, sandy patio garden.

There is a bird’s nest in one of my pots.

Spring came regardless. 

Orchid Dust

It slipped to the bricks,

A flight

From a window

Open at

Midnight,

The orchid, given to

Polish the feelings

Rasped by an unpolished man.

A tick of the finger nail 

A click on clay pot 

Sent it to its two storied 

Demise

Swept up with no trace

By the dawn patrol

Of street cleaners with brooms

Swept into dustbins 

Or maybe even rescued 

With no clue to it’s retinue 

Of accommodating women

Silenced with a wink, a gift, 

A threat that cooperation 

Was much more prized than their worth

So its satisfying crash

Echoed in brick alleys

Soothed more than the trinkets  

Bestowed as gags.  

The beautiful orchid 

More cherished dead 

Now, than it was alive. 

On the Table

I look at your hand,

Lying , resting, quiet on the table,

Resting, lying quiet on the wood,

And I want to crawl

Between your fingers.

I want to climb

Into that spot that marries up to

Mine, when we hold hands,                                    

Loosely when we stroll,

So they move like reeds on the beach

Responding to a wind or turn of the path.

Or, snug with that tight wrap around clasp,

Where I anchor my small around your

Strong index,

Wrist to wrist to feel your heart beat.

Or, warm and passive in the

Movie light flicker, fragrant from popcorn

And love making.

I look at your hand,

And lay mine there, resting, quiet

On the table,

Resting, lying quiet

On the wood.

Six Hours away

I am curled in your dreams, waiting,

Awaiting your return to this realm.

Spending the hours you sleep,

Dreaming, of our tomorrows, when,

Awake at the same time, we touch,

Caress, and I hold the phantom of your body, missing from my life.

I pray, and I plead, barter with the universe and gods,

To put us in the common air, common landscape of each other's skin.

I want to touch that skin,

To match it to the words from my lips,

they glide over your tender reply,

But til distance, vanished,and the ardent rise of your response,

Taste and scent memories will fill the empty times that you sleep,

While I, in my dayllight life, live without you.

The courtesy of a blinker

Could profoundly affect
Humanity
The courtesy of a turn signal
Could change the course
Of all mankind
If we show each other
Consideration
Showed each other
Which way we mean to go
It could trickle down
To our children
Or up
To our heads of state...
The courtesy of a blinker
Could change the course of humanity
A tilt of the hat
A how do you do
Could make the world
Different
It could trickle down
To our children
Or up
To our heads of state...