When I stepped out today,

I was not expecting the ocean to look so gray,

Nor the cries of the gulls

To match so perfectly with the outline of distant oceanliner’s hulls.


There are birds flying high above,

And part of me wishes Peace would send me her Dove.

Though I am so busy sitting here, writing this poem

That perchance I might miss the omen.


The clouds are collecting secrets

On the nature of human weakness;

They are amassing for war at their gathering,

While I paint them and wonder if this is the right moment to be capturing.


I am probably giving them more fodder,

But ‘tis true that I am the Mother Earth’s daughter,

And I could not resist the temptation

To watch them as they imagine the world below, forsaken.



The salt and the brine and the glory;

The surfer caught in the ecstasy of the wave,

Up she goes,

Hands in the air,

Head thrown back,

Wet hair whipped by the wind,

She is rising, soaring,

And now –



In the glow of torchlight,

You write,

Hoping to capture

What the transcendentalists could not –

The fleeting river of life,

Into which each of us steps only once,

The sweet fruits of being alive,

And sweeter still, the song love sings,

When She comes

On silent feet

That have been dragged through

The morning’s dew,

And the grass,

And the dirt and the mud and the organic detritus

Of the Garden

But which are altogether

Untouched by their travels,

  And still as pure

As your heart

The night before it was first broken.



The moment ends,

Mindful of the clock

And it’s relentless ticking,

Heedless of the half-smile painted across your face,

The bright luminescence of the sky

And the whiteness of the gulls

Flying far above,

Silhouetted against the setting sun,

Going places I will never.


You can’t see the sky

When you’re dreamin’ like that,

One nightmare after another –

Dark horses gallopin’ into a sunset

Whose colors you can’t quite fathom;

And you can’t shoot for the moon

When you’re fallin’ like that,

Icarus with his wings afire,

Plummetin’ through time and space,

Pausin’ only to regret not flyin’ close enough

To be blinded by that treacherous sun;

And you can’t reach out and pluck the stars

From the velvet blanket of the night,

When you’re dancin’ like that,

Like everyone’s watchin’

And you’re frozen in the spotlight,

Amber-trapped in a rare moment of stillness,

Never again to resume a foxtrot

You never took up to begin with.

Thinking of You

Do you think of me at dawn,

When you arise, first light tingeing the rooftops

A rosy gold?

Do you dream of me at dusk,

The first of those septentrional stars

Shining bright in the blanket of the newly minted night?

Do you wake from dreams of me

In the still and quiet of the early hours,

A bittersweet melody playing itself out

Once more across the canvas of your skin?

Do you remember me as I remember you,

Indelible ink forever spilt across my midnight musings?