How intently and with purpose the wind blows
with every gust and turn in direction
it is the sweet laugh of God
combing through my hair
and untangling my scarf.
TDM
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Tag: personal
Have Been
I have forgotten myself many times
mostly on purpose
I have made days go by without saying
hello to a mirror
and have been even better
at making nights disappear
suffocating myself under blankets
the easiest place to be
where words are muffled and sounds elude me
TDM
Skipping Rocks
I would skip
rocks
with my feet plunged into moss
curl my toes underneath mud
grip myself
turning a stone over in my hand
weighing it with every rotation
to make sure it wouldn’t just
plunk
to the bottom of the brook
though if it did
it would not be lonely
because there are plenty of others
who have
sunk
to the
bottom
and nestled themselves
even after they’ve skidded the rapids.
TDM
A Little Nature
If only i could lie
in the grass for more
than just a little while
I could graze the atmosphere
with my drifting eyes
turning my head this way and
that way
I’d twitch my ears
to tune them to the sound
of daffodils being kissed
by tiny insects
I could wipe my nose clean and
inhale perfumed stardust
that would shake itself off
and hitch a ride on currents
golden flecks falling through my hair
hovering first like a halo
and I would not mind nibbles
from creatures polite enough
to make their presence known
take what they need and then leave.
TDM
Polite Love
the trees are polite
they bow to the wind
whenever it pushes through clouds
and knocks upon their cracked bark,
their aged and writhed skin,
contours of time shaped by the hand
of everything,
blushes as gusts brush upon them
like the touch of a lover’s face
pressed against a lover’s face,
comfort, sweet and warm
to contrast rough and gritty,
overwhelm these monuments,
make their leaves shake and whisper
to one another, excitedly.
TDM
Walk With Me
May I take your hand for a moment please?
and walk with you by the bay?
I have come undone in this world of late
I am weary and need to pray.
words will not comfort this somnolent mind,
and sympathy will not do,
I’ve outdone this world a long time ago
so please, let me walk by you.
May I take your hand for a moment please?
and laugh with you by the bay?
the stresses of time have made me so old,
I’ve forgotten how to play.
Show me the world in a radiant glow,
in naturalistic stride,
show me the world you intended for us,
your marveling jewel, your pride.
So take my hand, for a moment please,
and walk with me till dawn,
stay till the sweet smell of dew fills the air,
and the crescent moon has gone.
In Which I Talk To A Drunk Old Man
I held on to the poll tightly as the streetcar screeched along its tracks, and the bustle of China Town rushed by the windows.
An old man sat directly in front of where I was standing, and in a mumble that released the scent of cheap whiskey, cleared his throat.
“A seat my dear?” he said.
“No thank you,” I said.
I really did not want to sit, nor did I think this old man would do well staggering, trying to maneuver himself between seats and staring eyes.
“I can even get off two stops ahead of mine, so you can sit, if you’re more comfortable with that,” the old man mumbled between his liquor soaked beard.
“No thank you, but I really appreciate the offer,” I said.
I rang the bell just as the streetcar was pulling up to my stop, and the old man smiled.
“Have a good day my dear.”
“Same to you,” I said, looking into his eyes and nodding my head.
I hopped off the streetcar and as I waited at the cross walk, wondered if the old man had a home.
He had blue eyes.
T. DM
