Sunflowers

up this steep grade
to the  high rocky ridge

the sunflowers sway
in the cold autumn wind

like weathered grand-dames,
gowned in grey lace

they stiffly resist
their slow fall from grace,

and fiercely they cling
to the thin, rocky dust,

stubborn, still in love
with adulterine lust.

 

image at http://www.redkettle.com/images/products/contemporary-canada/rock-sunflowers.jpg

Dolour

The sun has gone.

Night resumes its dark song
longing for stars, reaching
for the rapture of eternity.

You wait so far away,
in your own private night;

I feel your fear trembling
like fitful autumn wind
rushing through my eves,
filling my garden
with the spent leaves
of youthful summer.

I know you wait in his dim room,
curtain pulled, tv on,
door discretely ajar
as you watch him sleep.

I wish I could help,
and pray
the perfect prayer,
conjure God out of the night
and force the miracle of morning.

But God is silent,
His will is not known,
and my prayer
impotent.

So I send you this poem,
to sing you
my tears.

I can offer nothing more
than a brother's love.

Shattered Night

I hear the trees sing
their whispered hymns of praise
to the moon
lingering high
over bowing, bright branches,

when exploding past
glaring red lights,
angry motors and anxious sirens
shatter this sacred night.

But still I wait,
and at last I hear
that voice,

the small, soft voice
that says
"I am."

Autumn

still green, supple leaves remain
though heavy apples fall
fragrant, brown,
and rotting to the ground.

summer lingers
rubescent rose and heavy fern
looking good as July

while in dark, northern mountains
stealthy winter waits
to cast down spectral leaves,

and silently creates
its first, cold rain.