October

It’s times like these, when I watch the wind

Playing with the leaves, yellow and crimson and brown,

And the sun sparkles brightly....

A chill nips the air, and I think of my past.

Burning bonfires, eating marshmallows, cold starry nights.

Hiding, watching children or monsters (I can’t remember which)

Walking by in search of candy – oh!

The terror that one of them might ring at our door!

Little games like these were so much fun!

I remember hiking in a wood,

I remember wearing shirts with awful pins.

I remember lost loves, distant memories,

The cold twinge of a barely remembered mist.

It’s times like these, when the ethereal blue sky

Pulls on your soul,

So that you think you might die from beauty,

Such a deep, deep blue that it breaks your heart.

I’ll never know what it is that makes me love the Fall.

It seems that every year, a part of me dies and I never get it back.

Yet still, there’s something every year that keeps me in love with Autumn.

It’s times like these that make you remember.

Microcosmos

Sometimes of an evening,

I look around and wonder.

I see little worlds flying past,

Their inhabitants busy focused

On their own non-orb

Such colors glinting in the sun!

Reds, greens, blues, blacks, and whites

Glitter and they whiz by.

A brief pause, and I look over to see a woman

Alone in her world and talking, but nobody’s there;

Then the stream starts back up, and her world disappears in the flow.

My world is nice and comfortable, if only a little lonely;

I wonder where everyone is going, lost in their own worlds,

Unnoticing, unthinking, simply hurrying along.

Lost in my own thoughts,

I pull into my driveway and step onto terra firma.

Lights on Broad River

Alone, I trudge to my car and venture into
The wide and lonely
City.
I drive and drive, and feel the Loneliness.
Have you ever felt the Loneliness?
It’s a quiet sort of feeling that makes you squirm
Because you can’t move as your heart is pressed
On every side.
While sipping my coffee, I see a slivery crescent of moon.
The moon is so red I can hardly see it against
The black canvas it hangs on.
She looks lonely, and suddenly I don’t feel
Alone anymore.
Strange, but it gives me comfort to see light
Shining on the
Water.

White Violets

While walking through woods on a spring afternoon,
I saw shining beneath my feet,
Little white stars in a green sky.

As I bent to look closer, I discovered
That they were more like sheep than stars,
Grazing in their little flock, quietly eating earth.

I wondered what they think about themselves.
Are they proud not to be like the other
Dull purple ones – “stupid creatures!”
Or are they quietly confident
Knowing that not even Solomon could dress so fine!

Frog Hymn

A cool breeze blows across my face,
As I peek out at the rain.
The earth smells fresh and the night
Comes alive as the rain drops and distils abundantly.
Drip, drip, drip patters the rain,
And I stop and listen to the small frogs praising God.

I wonder how out of touch my race has become,
That we fail to praise God when it rains.
Maybe it’s because the rain ruins our plans,
Or maybe it’s because we don’t like to get wet.
But probably it’s because our hearts have become too blind,
Too blind to see what a lesser race always sees.

The rain drips down, and still
I stop and listen to the small frogs praising God.