Standing Water

April 13, 2016

The sea was grey,
So much so that when
You looked, your eyes
Couldn’t quite tell where
The horizon really was.
Compacted wet sand is
Terrific for holding shape,
Each paw print a smudge
That remained long after
Her feet had left the beach.

The air smelled of salt, and
The ebb and flow of waves
Repeated their song like a
Pair of giant watery lungs-
Inhale and exhale.

Every wave brought me
Closer, into the eddies and
Pools between the rocks.
I hear her splash her way
Back to me, whining and
Barking for me to return.
But here is where I’ll stay.


Color Scheme

July 7, 2009

The color of a goose’s
Winter plumage; like ash
Fallen from a Cuban cigar
A fragile frame bent to stay
On your crooked path
Spanning state lines and
More than a few souls
You’ve said it yourself,
You are simply grey.
Almost worse than ever
Grey is neither happy nor sad
It cannot be anything but
What it is: concrete.
You are the hue of
A frozen lake with
Green trimmings

But remember, dear,
Underneath the hardened
And icy exterior lies a dormant
Body of water, cool and fresh,
Waiting for a spring sunrise
To overwhelm your shell
And become that shining
Silver and azure
I see that time coming
When you will splash yourself
With color and invite the
Wildlife to come and stay
Perhaps the time will be
Sooner than we thought
I never had a doubt
You would surprise us
Iridescent flashes and
A smile I love to see
Grinning up at my face
From the bottom of the lake.