Another
summer of drought
the Matta, Ni and
Po rivers come and go
signs noted along the highway
At the Rappahannock
I become aware how
devastating the absence
of rain has been
there is little evidence
a river ever ran through here, but
Somewhere
to the southeast the
Rappahannock
gathers its waters once again unto itself
becoming wide and deep –
slows to gain strength, then
quickens to reunite with the Chesapeake
Together they will flow to the sea.
Her worn collar long faded and stained used to be hot summer pink with lime-colored palm trees dancing ‘round Set against a pale yellow-white coat – she might as well have been wearing diamonds Later came the grass and mud, chocolate (swiped pastry) and a few garden remnants… over time each stain became an embedded…
Dusk along the lane only foundations remained we traced them with our feet stumbling occasionally I stood inside one he – just outside the one next door for one moment music lingered on the warm humid breeze in September of 1941 there was no carnage The old runway evoked pre-dawn mornings the palpable drone of…
August hangs heavy in the air uncomfortably cloaking all who venture outside August forced open its eyes later this morning than yesterday labored breathing hissing over soon ssooooon (I found a cicada lying silent in the street on my morning walk today) What happened to May’s sweet promise the glittering dance of June July’s sultry…
Eagle flying in the air all alone, always there ever circling what do you see on the ground cold, dark, dank, brown circling, ever circling Over treetops, over farms lying fallow – is it flight keeps you alive? time long gone I’d lay watching as you worked the currents finally running in for the kill…
Sometimes life smarts – well, backward glances and forward hopes perhaps Examining – or not what it means to live a life “well lived” Striving to shoulder daily responsibilities, the shoulds, oughts, musts – while necessary – perhaps noble in some small way? Sometimes in quiet moments of reflection, it feels as if the shouldering…
One by one bright colors rise silently into the sky Each evening throughout the summer it is the same: boys and men and their kites drawn to the empty beach A few kites soar and dive recklessly only to crash in the water or lay lifeless on the sand – others seem to strain against…