Sunday, October 25, 2020


I watched the sky get slashed last night
as though some unseen sword
in a cunning onslaught scored
the flesh of heaven in an epic fight
and golden ichor poured

across it’s flank, from west to east
above the battlefield,
and in it’s stead I reeled
(though it wasn’t bothered in the least)
Then, in a FLASH, it healed.

Monday, October 19, 2020


The bees are busy gathering what pollen they can glean
From faded, blossom bearing weeds that yesterday were green
But news received this morning of a dying childhood friend
Reminds me just how rapidly this wondrous life can end
And there beside the brush a milkweed vomits fluffy seeds
That disappear upon the wind much like our earthly deeds.