Forest

Street light The lamp outside My window tonight With golden rays of light Shows dust, snow, and rain But dims the shining stars.

In the Forest Stillness Quiet Reveals a distant hum For green may rule But the highway isn't far Leaves Moss And little bits of trash For green may rule here But humans rule the world

Silence Silence is the night they said Silence is speechless cowardly fear they said Silence is a hateful stare they said Sometimes, I say. Sometimes silence is a sweet hush in the cool fall night, just out of the reach of the melodic strains from inside. Sometimes silence is the protester before his tank, David before his Goliath... words can add nothing. Sometimes silence is a mother's gentle watching gaze words too small to say. Silence is what's left over, beneath: clear, stirring notes of emotion.

At the bottom of the vase Sick My tongue is chilled I breathe in through closed teeth, Hissing. My throat is dry I breath in through my nose brief panic I gasp Cup of tea after cup of tea after cup of tea A drip feed of sugar and cream I relax into my blankets And the teapot screams impatiently

Driving on the Highway Mild mannered peach sunset Over colorless tan wheat field Trees are stark in intricate black And birds match. Low angled light casts reflections on water Never still, ever moving, A painting. Man's lights clash, Red against rusty pink. Our shapes don't fit, Solid blocks over filigree. In the night highways And cities glimmer convincing enough Not the same, though, As stars And snow In the moonlight Pale and plain Though they are.

Days Day 1 Footsteps through the hall. I cannot hear them. Even so, legs dance in graceful synchronicity with the music in my ears. My feet oblige, waltzing with Bach. I sit. We laugh. We are so smart And together we are smarter, gleeful in the world we define,     decipher,         and determine. Calculations flow like water     one plus one     two plus two     I love you... Puns come to mind unheeded And I laugh because I can. I stand. I walk. Snow floats down Like fat, white rain that cannot saturate. the Winter is a Wonderland, glazing black and grey with white. I am Home. The washing machine sloshes gently. The house creaks, talking to itself. I sit by the fire A slow deep breath in the quiet Warmth in my toes and my nose and my fingertips And a smile on my lips. Day 2 In my head I turn the binding lock. The tower of homework hides the ev...