Forest

 

Still the aftermath

Trees reach tall and wide, like We-

That is All-she wrote.

Painting by George Hayter (1792-1871), 'After the Storm' c. 1833 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Tepid

June thunderstorm

barrels thru

Humid-but isn't that wet

Anyway-All the little

People say "Climate Change"

But isn't the climate always

Changing-

People in a room,

Stars that collide and

Rainbows that break the mirror of 

Sky, 

as night and day

do not feel the

Same.

Never before is not impossible

or infinity imploding

As in a 

Cause to worry,

never fear

the constant Change

passes thru. 

Painting by Samuel Palmer, 'Summer Storm near Pulborough, Sussex ' c. 1851 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Any other way

Forget and forgive

Not the other way

Forward

Better to apologize

than ask for

Permission

Make sense

Of a million censors

One raises 

Voices

But acts alone.

There was a time 

of day

that just felt right

Now

is a different Time.

The sun sets

the sun rises

all the Same.

Image of Artwork credited by (Scan by NYPL), 'Sunrise or Sunset on Lake Champlain, NY' in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

The words escaped her...

 

Sometimes she speaks

Others...

Don't listen to her

How she doesn't know

What she says

Before...

She thought

They could hear

Her thoughts

filled with speech a-

loud voice

You could tell...

Image credit User:Zmaj, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

For 15, 23

Today,

Two years ago

To this day,

I drove away

For good

has never sounded

So Appropriate

Into fate

As it were, 

As it would be

Left behind

Behind me

Now,

I drive on paved paths

In the dark

Streets

only silver linings

Guide 

The way.

Photo by Author Kelly Sikkema, Unsplash title 'As far as you can see' Dated 13 January 2017, Location: Fenton, United States

Confession

There was nothing left 

for me to do except take him to the edge 

of land

and see if he notices

what is missing

would he read the horizon lines

and turn the page?

Together we watched the boats

come and go

at the mouth

of the harbor

saying nothing 

of directions

like wind and gaze.

The further we went on 

drifting by degrees away,

where the edge becomes and end 

before us

anyway, a moment of stillness

Arose 

to this occasion

of reading-

The End.

Painting by Winslow Homer (1836-1910), 'Chindren on the beach' c. 1873 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Lucid lyrics

This one body

of water

This one me,

one drop in a sea-

where matter makes

greater than one

me and

to see a body-

Like mine

drenched in spirit

like the One 

This is some thing

only I can feel

this one reality

of a Being

that changes

less or more

and more or less

by blood and water

when every thing is 

Exposed

Nothing is just 

itself.

Image by Dietmar Rabich / in Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons / “Wassertropfen -- 2021 -- 8024” / CC BY-SA 4.0.