Crickets greet the dawn
leaves beneath doe hooves crunch
treasure solitude
morning
Hello
Hello
are you out there
I think
I know you are
because
I can see the little tufts
of steam
your breath makes
on my dreams
The thoughts are heavy
in the not quite dawn
they weigh
on your mind
and your soul
they tickle your brain
and scratch
little holes
in your waking
demanding to be let out
to play
if you are out there
and I know you’re out there
why don’t you come closer
come in
or I’ll come out
enjoy the coffee and play
in the piles
of memories and dreams
Morning Matters
Silence that’s almost
but not quite
that wraps the heart
in calm surrender
to the coming day
Solitude of the rush
and tumble of the commute
coffee cold, but not quite
overnight in the garage in the truck
tepid
coffee is coffee
dawn reflects badly
in the tar and asphalt
of the inner city morning
join the fray
become the flotsam and jetsam
that is the work-a-day world
and through it all
keep with you
the solitude and silence
that reminds you
that
morning matters
Present
Open the morning
unwrap the day
and with the unwrapping
open yourself
to all of the day’s
possabilities
Breathe
I find the still and the quiet
although the quiet
really isn’t
–geese… robins… jays and starlings
— distant traffic… water… bees
— the breeze tickling my wind chimes
— the lazy sigh of the dog
the morning is full
of the music of life
and I
in the still of the morning
behind the anonymity hedges
hide
and find
that small still space
to breathe
Fireflies and Rain
The glow of the butterflies and fireflies
Christmas lights
two seasons out of time
warm the morning
like no coffee can
The backlight
to the sound
of fingers on keyboard
Window open
to let in the birdsong
of the not quite dawn
and let out
the still, quiet thoughts
that fill my brain
to overflowing
they roll around,
my thoughts,
in the rain on the street
and the smell it leaves in its wet wake
the heavy green moss
beneath my trees
among
the clouds
and the stars
and the smell
of loam and hyacinth
and creep back in
to wipe their feet
on my page
In Perfection
In perfection
imperfection
in the flawless
the flaw
I sit back into the lap
of the stone
that cradles us all
and touch the sound
of the wind
walk with me
my unmet friend
not my walk
no
that would be wrong
just
together apart
but let our paths
gently touch
smell the ideas
that grow in the between
as the beauty that
we can be
becomes
and
in the smelling
of the shared peace
know
Toe to Toe to Toe
Three Stand
face to face
toe to toe to toe
In the cold light
of way past dawn
screaming epithets
for the downcast eyes
and hustling footsteps
to not notice
pretend to not hear
Nigga I aint talkin a you
Nigga I AINT talkin a you
I SAID NIGGA I aint TALKIN A YOU
They stand
In the cold light of day
They three
in the sad cold empty
not quite shutter locked
store front
of the dirty city
and cry
to be heard
over the cruel silence of the city
and the plaintive cry
of the gulls
snowy morning
I step out
into the silence
of the snow fall
the sounds of
the too close city
muted
by the hiss
of the snow on snow
I step
gingerly down
white icy stairs
creeping
through the powdered sugar donut world
eight degrees
bites at my nose
tugs at my lungs
brings cold tears
stinging
there is magic
in the not yet dawn
that draws me
from my lonely cave
Morning
Slowly
Steadily
Inch by imperceptible inch
It eats away
At the night
Pushing back the quiet
The peace
The solicitude
The flights of fancy
REM sleep
Replacing it with
The stark
Unyielding
Unrelenting
Reality
Of the day ahead
Glory in the breaking dawn
Capture it
Bottle it
To uncork
And savor
When the day gets long
Clandestine Writing... 