Demure to the Rocks

This is my means of survival.

Highlighted bookends.

Adjusted paperweights.

Arranged refrigerator magnets.

 

If I can simply keep things

from moving, I’ll know.

Fixed positions, steady on

this blue blurry ball.

 

Give me some space,

a bit of time,

and this continuum

will seem like

 

an unimpeded stream.

No noise or crescendo

lifting their praises.

Not a peep…

 

Then the rocks cry out.

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Last Fall

 

Yellow tears

drop from the ducts

of maple skies.

 

The fall cries

in descending circles.

Calm rains down,

 

baptizes flared sorrow

one on one

then one.

 

Trees rejoice,

then weep in offering

our golden silence.

Orange Leaves fall