Aubade: Mourning-dove

Dawn fires

the cold roses

one-

at-

a-time, 

when, with

planetary urge,

all explode to

vermillion

conflagration.

Then the cherry tree,

plain in

drab leaf,

erupts into

emerald

glory,

and high

from the bright rooftop

the mourning-dove

sings

his low, plaintive

song of 

love.

(15 June 2014)

Intricate Psalms

Photo: Brian Federle, Sun in Clouds, Hawaii 2016

Clearing the tallest

eve of the big house,

the sun overwhelms.

Then the mockingbird chants

intricate psalms —

All praise to the

lord of the sky

and with glory

fill the land!

daybreak

Photo: Brian Federle, Palm Springs Dawn, December 2016

daybreak, still limbs lace

to gray sky, wait for the next

storm to shake open

morning, still sleeping

shuttered windows conceal the

cold face of daybreak.

(1/22/2012 - 8/29/2017)

Brian's Psalm

In winter's stark dawning 

in cold fog encased,

your warmth I'm discerning

though night will not fade, 

for unwilling is morning 

it lurks in sore limbs,

yet your song is arising 

and I know that you'll send

to my darkest night-hour 

new light to set me free

and your song I'll be singing

in the glow of the east!

December Fog

Winding over fast roads
through shrouded hills, 
we see the familiar valley
disappear
under a white sea,

                   human confusion 
                   dissolving
                   into pure cloud.

                                   over frozen white roofs
                                   beyond the veiled ridge
                                   the dark disc rises.

                                    Black dawn 
                                    breaks the long night

                                    and spills dirty light 
                                    over the waking city.

                   In the twilight sky
                   shadow shapes
                   fly in V 
                   over still trees, 
                   looking for rest,

any place to touch 
soft, giving ground 
and call it 
a nest.

(16 Dec 2010)

Morning

light, liquid, over-

flowing bright leaf, washing clean

night’s graven, dull stain.

Redwoods at Dawn

House Amongst the Redwood Trees: photo by Frank Schulenburg, 2012

Shafts of night rising

from earth, climb past my front door,

shade my window, vault

past the high arch, lift

the sky with narrow rings of

never-ending green

as golden morning

crowns with light; excited birds

sing out graven night.

(11 January 2014)

Deception (Black Mesa Landscape)

Black Mesa Landscape  Georgia O'Keefe


Darkness still grips the world
with tales of deep holes,
caves dug into the skull,
empty graves waiting
rooms blackened by loss
of power as in panic we light
candles and hear the wind ripping
against trees, tearing the
sky for any sign of salvation,
and guided only by this
little light, this small rectangle
of white screen, the black letters
dancing in regular rows under my
fingers, I search this small window
for any reason to hope.
                                 But of course
true to its endless promise, the sun
casts first glow on the outermost leaves
and the grass finds itself again and begins
its daily green glow, and I wonder why
fragile faith is so easily crushed
by night's routine lie.