Daily Archives: March 31, 2012


Preparations in the weary weather worn,
Fine deliberations in thought grown not in common sod but sewn,
Embroidered yesterday’s or last night in the bedclothes, their messages thrown
About the rooms as socks and remnants of the breath at play—torn
Perhaps, and tattered—a little worse for wear but not abandoned,
Not quite graced with station how much  less with purpose on the floors.
As spring pronounces vowels broadly, its consonants are doors
Left not quite closed in hopes that random
Sunbeams, some michievous breeze, or better still, the damp sweet scent
Of trees and odd forgotten hedges stir in later afternoons.
Winter yawns as the tree-veins wake to find within their hour and soon
Upon the arbour, knobs form thence to buds whose walls will rent
In time at last as pilgrim blossoms urging declaration in bulk and natural rhyme
With hope at last while promises expire, replaced by living witnesses to time.

“The Peace, That Is

“The Peace, That Is”

The peace that is, some sense of fortune, love

Of life, that is, the promises that dwell in hearts
Whose beacon is the present.  Darts
And shafts, phantoms’ arrows, doves
Of superstition and the flights of eagles not yet dreamed
Become the weights of weariness, embellished chains of thoughts,
Of past and distant memories; all these are. The nought’s
Outweigh the should’s, the clarion chorus of what seems
Will drown the melody of what is as patently, the past
Is nothing more than magnification of future’s cold deception.
Certainly, who’s to know but that at conception
What was sure to be could never really last
And what endures is petrified in quicksands of false alarms
Because we dwell so near the morning’s light and yet so far.