Baby rock

A daughter is the only true conversation
that never ends...

Domesticated means kept
for companionship
by necessity.

Friend-
ships sail easily in a passing breeze.

Love spins
the Earth,
holding us close
to the core
or heart
of matter

like all of these
intangible connections
that bind
our words to the spine.

Once upon a time
we were here
mattering to one another

collecting the loose fragments
that spin off
and calling them stars.


Artwork credited by NASA/JPL-Caltech / Public domain.

elasticity/density

The anticipated fog
steamrolls over
terrestrial things
in ways worthy
of emulating.

Clearing in manhole
windows, a glint of caught
starlight hints at the presence
of an eternal watchful
vigil by the moon cast.

Slow and muffled comes the
hollow sound, conjured by a presence
stirring the air.

Straining to hear
a muse muttering
your name as if it were
pronounced in the echo
of Nobody.


Painting by John Atkinson Grimshaw (1836-1893), 'A Moonlit Evening' c. 1880 in Public Domain. 

Give & Take

The most random growth

strikes me as superfluous

Beauty.

Look around;

Light, colors, temperature, 

                        and patterns too ornate

to recreate by free hand. Living proof.

I take it in too deep, bury stars under dust

And as ugly as I try

a mote may hope

to grow out of it.


Illustration from Patrick Moore's Watcher of the Stars in 16th century[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Water rocks

It is that time

and I feel us

spinning in nearer

the Aquariids,

perhaps none will

notice this but me

but I get vertigo,

and have learned

to plan accordingly

I wait outside under

grape skies with an

empty cup,

one thinks of sparks

and electricity often

aquaeous,

currently this is the rush

I feel, dangerous

for some of us

passing down waterfalls

and fixating

on a spot

to the sea of tranquility

stars stay

just out of reach.

 Image credit By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Light cycle

The scalding star
                      bursting in beams
gives way, in due time
                      Tho not without a heated conflict
our only satellite set on high
                     sending signals where no one
can hide from the wrath and the aftermath

Both positions be known
                      observed and heeded
the dynamic cycle, black and white
                      from day to night
the changing of Our guards

who compose the length of our sentence                    
wardens we watch back.




Image by Henri Théophile Hildibrand [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.