Waiting for Dad

The sundraped buildings mark the evening sky
As whispers tremble liquid in her ear–
She scarcely heard a word, nor met my eye:
A twilight twinge of unabated fear.

The night is here, her neon signs ablaze
(Small comfort for a country child of eight)
I do not know the city or its ways,
Her silence makes my small heart palpitate.

Another bus approaches and is gone;
Some strangers wander past us in the dark
And still we linger on and on and on.
Another bus, more strangers disembark–

“That’s him!” she cries, and then he’s in our arms:
A father’s presence ceases all alarms.

Cella Sonnet

A cold, clear morning perfect for a drive:
—The frost-like snow lends softness mild and clean,
While twisted tree limbs fist-bump and high-five
—A crystal fountain drips down auld ravine:
Gold water catches sunlight like a star,
—A Canopus in aqua constellation–
Here Pollux, here Mimosa, here Hadar–
—Swift shifting shapes with each new undulation.
With paint-dipped branches birches arch the stream,
—A natural mimicry of wind-wisped snow,
Like whitewashed towers built from paper ream;
—They bend and beckon where to come and go.

The road that brought me by this starry scene
—Is all that interrupts this place pristine.

In Dependence Day

In June I tiptoe to offset the noise
July will bring: a New Year in mid-year—
Explosions loud, we celebrate like boys
When parents leave and there is none to fear.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered (Not yours)

And what, oh death, would you remove from me
By dimming lights?  I do not fear the dark,
For like Alaskan summer nights that see
A flick of black, an unimpressive arc—
Your cloak shall fall; it can’t contain the light
And life of him you do not own.  The seal
And signatures are proof you lost this fight
And I was part and parcel of the deal.

S’rah’s Spanish Sonnet

El cual también nos informó sobre
Vuestro amor en el Espíritu.
Says India.Arie: “I see God in you.”
It’s true; He’s used you in a special way.

For Olivia

I looked for inspiration in your pics,
But found your story only partial there;
You pointed gently to the crucifix
To separate the wheat stalks from the tare,

Adveniat Regnum Tuum

I came, I saw my name upon the oak:
Man conquers nature with a flaming sword,
A dagger deep concealed within the cloak
Embeds itself within the living board.

The Pattern Repeats

A pair of eyes that blush the robin red
And charm sweet smiles from all the nearby kids,
Your brows like sparrows with their wings outspread,
A flight of fancy perched above your lids.
Your nose is not a button but a knife,
A preview marking sharpness of your wit
That cuts, divides, and conquers without strife,
Still leaving all in stitches for a bit.
Your laugh is trembling, caught between your lips:
Soft portals op’ning to release your voice;
You speak in cursive curvy like your hips
And all around the daffodils rejoice.
Fair ribbons weave their way through curly locks—
I’m shy so all I see are argyle socks.

Photo by Christina

The Lightbulb Effect

In motion, ah that old peculiar thing,
A stirring of the kettle-black pot’s gold;
A steady glinting metronome of bling
And halting starry eyes begin to fold.

Another Glass of Chardonnay?

And as the leaves all mingle on the ground
My love of life as sure as day is clear
The sun with royal diadem is crowned,
Though bows in acquiescence to my dear–
Now garbed in lovely pinkish sunset hues
Her footsteps crackle rhythms with red leaves
Whose mother tossed them when they lost their use
A tapestry of death the harsh wind weaves.
I notice not the wind’s cruel treachery
Nor gasp at tree’s example of neglect
When you are close I lose periphery
And other thoughts behind a dam collect–
You join me in this love feast as we dine
On mutual affection and word wine.