blows the wind

blows the wind

by winter

enthralled, trees

shed at end

of day, end

of summer

world fall-filled,

newly chilled,

crescent moon

disappears

all too soon.

Failure

The leaves are falling too early!

Strewn, green and pliant,

they drift to summer lawns

to wither and die.

Heavily falls failure when,

not yet the season of death,

impatient winds tear and shred,

suck dry life's tender

breath.

Diminished Vision

Dark lines dancing

on the edge

of distortion,

Slight things

not really there

darting just beyond

my searching

stare

when suddenly,

sidelong glancing,

I'm filled with

fear.

Sight Persists

In small cells it grows

glows in vitreous seas

like phosphorescent slugs

by currents released

holding all the motion, color,

loveliness

of the captured world,

until noticing, at last,

I see.

Vision

In the raw air of crystal dawn

the sun devours waning night

with dragon-song,

and rises to cerulean heights

to the vaulting domes            

of eternal sight.    

The Eye Exam

I Struggle.

The white dropper

looms like a bird's beak

a little too close

to my tender eyes,

but finally the drops splash

over my eyelashes

my nose and cheeks.

First a sting

and then I feel

nothing.

Soon the quiet room

becomes immense and bright.

I gaze in wonder

as my hands grow

transparent,

throbbing veins turn to

blue rivers

coursing through pale ravines

of webbed bone.

Vision grows deep

with dilation.

The doctor peers

through my eyes,

looking past

murky vitreous,

right down to

my optic nerve,

and I wonder what she sees.

A small hole torn into the retina,

just to the left

yes! that's where

lightning flashed before,

where now lies blindness…

my own circle of night,

foreshadowing

Nothing.

Eye Trouble

Close by,

flashes

fill the night

my peripheral vision,

what's nearly there

just above my shoulder,

over my straining

brow.

I see in a blink

the paparazzi

ducking into dark alleys

patiently waiting for me to emerge

smiling into innocent lamplight

trap me, like Princess Di,

with their

flash.

Conscience

Deep in the dark

of the wind-thrashed tree

a rasping voice calls to me,

demanding I see

what I cannot see.  

The tree's dark core

deep shade obscures,

and try as I might,

I'm blinded by night 

descending.  

Yet still it calls, insistent and

shrill, when sudden silence

my aching heart fills

with cold 

apprehension.   

Oh Lord, whom have I 

offended?  

Night and Day

Day and night the west

winds rise to the golden

edge, the threshold of sight.

I rise and fall and begin again

‘til at last I decline

into darkness of same.

Hot summer draws out spare

winter’s chill; my days flow

over, my life over-fills

‘til will forsaken, naked and

chaste,  at last I gaze

on your pure, living face.