Those Trees

We quiet down
when we lay
in the
brambles.

The sky is
a parchment, so
wildly written
it shines
to our eyes.

From here, we
stare up at
it through
the blackberry
stems.

Beneath these
thorns we hide
and hold hands
like children.

Time forgets
itself while
this life has
us.

In the Center of the Storm

(I)
The sweet voice
breathes close, taking
time. It comes over me -
It comes so much closer.
A torrent wind catches my
skin and tumbles me,
it seeds itself into
deep recesses in my
outstretched lungs.
Sparks of memories
with which dreams
burn brightest thump
exhalation. Across
my face I feel my
taught skin draw
into a smile. This
day bleeds the vigor,
it beckons the sailor
home, and it halts life's
traffic. This day has
captured me.

(II)
It came so quickly - the
rain. Caught unaware, it
overwhelms. Tremendous
in it's display and so
raw. Thick, dark clouds
hover menacingly close
to the tops of wind
soured trees. Torrential
falling rains splay old
pine branches wide. Fierce
wind tugs their roots in
stolen violence. Empty of
anything but fury it
rages. It demonstrates. It
claims dominance with
light and sound. In
it I am lost. There
is nothing but it's
disregard.

(III)
And then, it is gone.
Everything has changed.
The ground is soaked
from it's passing and
everything is quiet now.
My voice would be ominous
in these woods. The
daylight has gone gray
and lays upon the ground
in long strides. It's
so warm when it touches
me. My well trodden
heart lurches in
echo. With
small weak
steps I
overcome.
The light,
so gentle,
persists.

(IV)
Above me
is the
moon - watching
and
so full.
Oh, so numb
and captured,
it was, it
had to be
taken from
our dreams - our
ever sleeping
heart dreams.
There will
always be
those
moments,
but when
the
storm
subsides, it
once again,
becomes
clear.

Always

          To
the heart
we prick,
we pay with
    our always.

To
    the heart
we love, our
always is
lost.

See me
here, with
    my heart
    to give.

Take it,
to keep.
It belongs
    with you.

if it rains

                                                 In
early morning the time overcomes
me. The hour is so stark.

Perhaps, it's the unusually cold
May weather. It stirs me restless
while you slumber still.

I've raised the thermostat to warm
your dreams. The furnace fires to
breaks my trance.

But none of these things let me
know. And none of these things
let me in. They just are.

When I get older I'll see the morning
come before it is there. I won't
worry anymore about the weather.

There was something that we wanted
to remember. It's probably why I
can't sleep.

There is so much that needs to be
done, but I think that it is supposed
to rain come morning.