Meant To Be

Can’t have you but want you.
Bathing in dreams of possibilities.
Hands touch your hips, lips touch lips.
Eyes, hair, scent; heart connection meant
to be.

Fate shouts yes, no, maybe.
Joins yet demands we keep our distance.
Heart touches heart, carefully, timidly.
Fear be damned; heart connection meant
to be.

Wanting

Dreaming aching
longing singing
bells ringing
connecting
seeing
hoping believing
wanting and
waiting for
loving

Morning Solitude

Quiet morning just past sunrise
Lips sip African coffee
Nose whiffs Honduran cigar
Eyes see twenty shades of green in hostas, grass, oaks, pines, the fence
Ears hear deer hiding in the woods
Heart slows to the beat of welcomed solitude.

Recharge Cycle

Bluish purple light lingers sixty minutes past sunset.
Half moon winks through new spring leaves.
Quiet, peaceful anticipation wraps around like a blanket before bedtime.

Day falls asleep smiling, waiting, resting,
Wading through dark nightly currents,
Relaxing, recharging before beginning anew at sunrise.

Storm

Stormy weather rumbles through the valley,
tricks the senses illogically.
Howling wind, growling thunder,
explosive flashes of lightning
one minute,
dead calm the next.

Silence.
Motionless white dogwood blooms side by side with pink redbud florets.
A solitary bird on the feeder looks lost,
confused by the calm.
Startled when lightning, thunder and wind returns.

Rich Toast

A distant blue ridge divides sky from ground.
Clear mountain air surrounds,
drifts across the veranda,
fills lungs, lifts spirits.

Afternoon spring sun shadow
saturates expensive red and pink drinks
that sit on the table between sips.

This is how the rich live.
The rich ignore how poor they are
compared to two soul-mates toasting their friendship.

April 2nd

Cold cloudy damp day
Spring is late
She’s unpredictable anyway
Have to wait
Till she is ready to say
I’m here.

Naked branches tangle
and twist
Spider web angles
Moisture, mist.
Dew drops dangle
Yet next steps are clear.