I Will Never Forget


Touching the ground, wet grass, and still morning.

You lie beneath my feet, feet that feel  as though

they are sinking into the very void of your presence.

Leaving barren ground to follow without you,

holy ground,  hallow feelings of yesterday.

You do not exist in temporal tomorrows of living everyday.

I kneel, to keep from swaying in the feelings of uncertainty.

I want to lie and sleep near you, to feel you again,

A fragment of time, going and gone, and soon to be gone again,

I mix the moisture of the day with the moisture of my tears.

In the passing of life as I seek to find reason.

I bow my head to pray and feel the swelling of life and death

fertilize the ground inside my grounding so that I may never forget.

copyright:  CMM  2012

Cicadas


Crackle in summer heat,

 

     wings that buzz 

 

          in frenzy speed.

 

Flying into light or dark

 

     Trees amount

 

           and fallen weed.

 

Oh summer insect,

 

       oh bird of drought,

 

Your crescendo calls,

 

                                and in evening mounts.

 

©   CMM  2012

Seagull’s Flight


Soaring, turning, down
              mystic light,
                             breaking on wings
               he glides in sight.
Calm the sea, she swells
               in morning.
                           Seaman throws cast
                                                 of warning.
Copyrighted:  CMM 2011
Photo all rights reserved:  Copyrighted:  CMM  2011

Independence Day


Tattered makeshift canvas of red, white and blue tents

speckled in cornfields of sharecroppers’ rent.

Barefoot little boys run the dirt rows,

tripping in mud puddles, stubbing their toes.

Seeking to buy fireworks, later to light the skies,

matching the sparks reflected, a twinkling in their eyes.

Nation’s birthday will soon see the fireworks blaze,

when steaming evening blossoms through dark summer haze.

Erstwhile colors will soar beyond trees,

for Amercans to watch, some kneeling on skinned knees.

His wild-eyes with amazement of holiday’s sounding,

the rainbow lights celebrating our founding.

When all that remains is gray smoke in the sky,

hearts and minds march to those whom have died.

Not only from one war, but many recast,

to give a scraped-knee child a country that will last.

copyrighted: CMM 2004