Life With Horace

poetry & essays


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the night ship

there are times the moon
invades my room
as opal fingered fog
touching eyes and skin
and as the night sets sail
around me into sleep
I sense joyous dreams
that dance just out of reach
or sober trailers on the fringe
unwelcome memories to push away
tear welded flashes
from the day just lived
but not now not yet
as life’s flow
starts to telescope
slow sinuous twisting
to its vanishing point
each night explodes with color
and a shadow life
of longing
whose breadcrumb bursts
stay with me
as the sun returns
in counterpoint
to unquiet rest


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morning as palindrome

as words begin their dance
glancing out at spring
sitting down at last to write
confident of its receipt
asking for serenity
another day a perfect gift
reflecting and give thanks
I close my eyes to sip
hand cupping warmth
coffee and the ritual of smell
checking lilacs apple buds
birds scatter at the noise
opening the outer door
woods featureless and flat
moving softly hug the quiet
slightly damp delight
one slipper at a time
morning work for dogs
stretch sloughing sleep’s cement
a feather shawl to float away
night journey remnants linger
as clouds replace the sun
light diffuse and gray
dog nose to tail against my arm
first awareness as I wake
a dream departs

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Day 28. I loved writing this. The prompt was for an event or story in reverse.


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green dreams

the catalog arrived today
injecting green into my thoughts
lush garden dreams now underway

vast lettuce rows not puny pots
rich hills of beans with tongues of fire
espaliered trees of downy apricots

splashed color stokes my fierce desire
until the bubble pops and I fall back to earth
my garden plot is small, the barrow needs a tire

a reset needed for this year’s rebirth

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NaPoWriMo Day 5: the prompt was exotic seed names, using one in a poem. I had a yen to dabble once again with rhyme and a bit of humor, and chose the terza rima: aba bcb cdc d. A simple yet rewarding form. Enjoy!


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stardust

last night I knew a dream
within a dream
waking from the first
yet still asleep to see
familiar pinpoint
allegory road signs
faces that I knew so well
this time we were adrift together
on a sea not visited awake
then turning, sinking back to lethe
as tingle echoes ricocheted away
and woke to see a brilliant slash
of sunrise pink behind the spiky pines
that dimmed so fast to flattened gray
my only capture yet again
was memory

____________________________
a shortling linking the fleeting vividness of my dreams last night to the transient brilliance of sunrise on waking. for Jane, who said goodbye to her beloved Alan this week, and for Candy.


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dreams

what part of us
creates a dream,
where thought and memory
interweave to speak
about the day now done
and point to work ahead?
perhaps the spirit snatches
piecemeal chunks of thought
and welds them into
(technicolor) sequence,
for decoding by the heart,
still echoing the joy or fear
or puzzled voice
that sat upon our sleep,
until we wake,
relieved to know it
as unreal, or sad to leave
an ecstasy behind

___________________________
my dreams are always vivid, and in color. for me half the “fun” of dreams is puzzling out their origins on waking up.


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imagining dragonflies

walking under mid-March
flying clouds,
snow and ice,
still layered tightly
on this open wetland road,
there are soft murmurs,
not-still water
running under ice,
our continuo.
the great flow out
from unseen melt
is fleeing winter.

the half-warm sun
and gusting wind
of early spring
cannot erase the memory
of warmth and fecund life
held by my senses,
all riches here
to be regained
at nature’s pace,
not mine.

and so the dogs and I
tramp to the dam and back,
and dream
of summer pleasures
looming large,
imagining
the dragonflies.

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on yesterday’s wetland walk my mind kept overlaying summer on what I was seein
g.