Their seasons

Her damp brow, from
hard work and well-
earned rest
a starling sings, and
she lifts her hands
in prayer-full stance–
the wind is shifting
and she remembers

In pre-twilight
early summer blues
a man-boy’s voice, inviting
her
don’t forget about the love
don’t leave it behind
don’t leave summer behind

She smelled evergreen
through July’s singe of grass
the first raspberries tart
and sweet
red lips musing
a wipe on the back of her arm
and in the leaves–
traces of longing

What do you suppose
the clouds talk about–
congregating in cirrocumulus bevy
when they see all of it–
the neck bite.
the slammed door.
one red apple.

By August’s fireflies
he–on the road
she–writing sonnets
on social media–
bursts from her pen
epics he will not read
reams, of
her late night daydreams

Just in time
for September,she
will answer the phone
breathless
wondering why he waited
until he finished the bottle
to call–
each word counted
and kept

Starting his wander back
through snowy by-ways
he searches for their key
in a pocket with a hole in it
knowing
it will take nearly ’til May
to speak of her again. Until

the breeze catches her scent
and he returns, to
find her once more–
his brown-haired fay
he swore was made of vapour
from the clouds
of early June

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Make a wish at daybreak

split the sky

The fog lifts from the top of the corn
just ready to be picked
the long damp fingers reaching out to the roads
the moist touch of morning
coating the car as we pass
headlights like cat’s eyes
peering through the vapor

Glancing to the low places
my mind is glittered with thoughts
of fairies dancing in the foam
concocting their schemes
their wings dotted with the
facets of diamonds
in the face of a rising sun

My thoughts must stay on the road
but my own fairy sits on the dashboard
her tutu puffed out and glistening
spinning pirouettes
across the dash and fluttering
hovering near the auxiliary lights

Such riches as we continue on
a knife through butter
splitting the air
taking with us the fairy dust
like sugar on tea cakes
our wishes like those of children
as we begin our day

Intruder

your-room

I stomp through your rooms
I scream my childhood until it echoes
I take off my shoes and lie on the floor
feet on the wall while I read

We live here in shifts
you with reality, I with my fairies
wandering in and out with one of them
on my shoulder. Scampering

when you come home you kick off shoes
you turn on music and from a shadow
we watch you dance away your day
before we find another place
to lie through the night

sangria 2

the wine lies
slipping past the lips
deep penetrating warmth
offering courage
(or was it the brandy)
and forgetfulness
in time, a burglar
robbing me of good sense
and changing my mind

the fairies that dance
across my desk as I work
dipping in the ink
add whorls of magic
making Spirograph
out of a dry piece I wrote
at 4 p.m. (not my
brightest time of day)
though a bit
of high spirits
has added color

***

sangria

The nightwatchman

the nightwatchman holds steady while
everyone sleeps
stalwart through the hours
the dogs in the neighborhood
dreaming of chasing tails, cats, and squirrels
and guards the night’s secrets
all the pleasures of a night barely touched
by drowsy inhabitants
he roams freely and finds the remains of his soul
the particulates drifting off and away
during sunshine-filled days
with an aptitude for finding autumn sprites
that linger in the cool and damp
where the sultry fog meets mid-October
counting stars and watching the hours turn
always startled by first light
when it hits the windows across the street
and turns them to gold

shelter

escaping from the wicked stew
that is the world around me
making me crazy in circles
with all they expect
I am here in my hiding place
where I find light and warmth
and no one tears my hair out
fairies brushing it until it shines
growing in the hope that
when I re-enter the world
I will bring this light with me

tulips for tissues

little girl lost at home
wanted nothing more
than a white fence around a
garden, a cottage filled
with children
and a man whose eyes
brought the sun indoors

fairy tale princess, don’t be sad
your cottage is made of plaster
but it keeps you warm at night
and when you dream, the sunshine
does not forget you, coming
to you in visions, warming your
body like you need

do you suppose the garden to be
filled with fanciful creatures–
fairies who wield swords
battling dragons that threaten
to turn off the sunshine–
don’t cry–you know you
can beat them, if only you
look your monsters in the eyes

hydrangeas and daffodils remind you
that this is what you wanted
the fence can be painted over
and the tears dried–
tulip petals for tissues
beware–you don’t grab
at the poison ivy
with your small hands

beware of warm breath, the
dragons that look like princes–
you are safer in your make-believe
gazebo, this splendid tea laid out
on toadstools
and smiles–
all your smiles that bring the sunshine
with no help at all

you have it in you
to shine, and
cottage, garden, fairies and slain dragons
are all yours

Intruder

your-room

 

I stomp through your rooms
I scream my childhood until it echoes
I take off my shoes and lie on the floor
feet on the wall while I read

We live here in shifts
you with reality, I with my fairies
wandering in and out with one of them
on my shoulder. Scampering

when you come home you kick off shoes
you turn on music and from a shadow
we watch you dance away your day
before we find another place

to lie through the night

grievances

self-pity
forgive me
isn’t pretty
crying with ruby-
throated sparrows
roof-top
when he did not
see me
he’s a
one-strike-
you’re-out man

all my words
any accolades
mere dust
when I see his
eyes go blank
knowing he
does not hear me
(desperately braiding
a tether to reach)

I was not her
I don’t have
delicate hands
(they have fought,
caressed,
held up babies
and made love
like a warrior)
my hands are not small

through another window
someone moans
complains
my mind still wedged
in fascination
(her voice
fading
to a hum)
smiling
as fairies come