The 7th House

October 18, 2015

Near the lakes, she lies,
Eyes veiled by choice alone,
Scale in hand as she cries:
“My heart is not stone!”

Behind Themis’ blindfold,
Sapphire tears drip down
As her weary tale is told;
She weeps for lost crowns.

Each pass of the sun rests
Yet another year of blue.
She may lie with the best,
But still she knows it’s true:

October brings with it both
Cold sorrow and, yet, growth.


October Frost

October 9, 2008

Through the quiet
Hours of the morning
I glance out the window and see
Mother nature’s age transparent,
If only for a moment, in the frost
Lacing the October grass.

The clean cold of autumn air
Sears your throat, the kind of gasping
Breath that leaves your lungs
Pleading for more.

It’s that gradient from green to orange,
The citrus blossom of summer traded in
For a wet, earthy smell that reminds me
Just how small I am.

A fleeting instant, where in the silence
Of the clearing a solitary fox stands proud,
Ears positioned to detect the faintest
Clamor of man’s incompetence…

The leaves underfoot crunch
In the fading light of dusk.