Do you think the sky will fall in,
Down upon us like a deluge of blue,
Or shall it hang above, ever so low,
As it moves about, in its pallid hue?
Sad Summer
The summer months filled with idleness of sorrow;
Oh how I wish for a better then, tomorrow,
One that will grant a brighter sky
And which has limitations all the less – high.
Squandered is the sun’s gay light
That flutters down its celestial flight,
To ensconce all men in ethereal bliss-
At least until the cold comes to hiss.
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Sublime Range
I found god in the Colorado Rockies
Stretching his fingers and scraping them upon the peaks,
And down their declines to a deep river valley
Where his wistful tears flow so smoothly
‘Till they are damned up by ravenous imps,
The never-sated virulent epicures,
And exploited in progress’s name.
His tears turn to pensive in the ever-present dirge
That is the clapping of the skies and roaring of their rain,
And the rivers rush fast to break their wrongful incarceration.
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Grove
To it I could look a
million times
And none the wiser
would I be.
Her immaculate beauty
and those towering
oak trees
Are a simple enigma all their own.
with each fervid glance,
a new nuance I do see.
Its inscrutable openness
is to behold sheer glee.