Early summer morning

Early summer morning,
Young sunrise above the sea.
Where his shadow falls
Over the grass I plant my life
Like a cluster of moss
Afloat on wind-stirred sea,
Flushing without roots,
Weirdly softening when the edges
Of his silhouette leans against
My empty handed longing.


We sleep under the same black sky

Tonight, the rivers
Have frozen over
And bright summer days
Can’t even seem to bring us
Back together.
We sleep under the same
Black sky, but the stars
Seem to create different patterns
In our lives. Perhaps it is time
To let our memories draw
Shadows in the snow and simply wait
For the sun to rise.

The Dream of tomorrow

Of all the gifts of grace
Nothing is as precious as longing.
We see it in the meeting
of sky and hoarfrost:
A white-haired aerial world
Fighting the elaborate rules of time.
Or in the quiet of the night sea
Without a single light to reflect.
We see it in the singing hazels
Bleeding into sleeping clouds,
And in the waning sun’s burgundy
Burning the past in its hand.
But most of all we see it in people,
Walking side by side,
Young and growing, old and leaning,
Always haloed by the dream of tomorrow.