Pumping inside, silent echoes of my heart
racing rhythm reminding me; visceral awareness.
The sense is preciously closer to a more final silence,
as I listen to resounding moments.
It is autumn in my life, and as the leaves fall,
so do the days of color and stillness.
Each day is a lover coming to call,
ticking moments, pulsating rhythm.
Sweeping the broken twigs,
the acorns in pieces with leaves
rusted across the redwood deck,
I feel the seeds of contemplation.
© CMM 2011
Witches and apples, fallen leaves and rot,
Has come to this the Hallow night of
full moon with goblins and steamy pots.
The shadows at dusk that pass among trees
of little costumes of scary ghost among
dressed up monsters of make believes…
An eve of frightening rituals
where all one’s fears are mimicked and mocked
with humor and timeless habituals.
So call on All Saints , who listen this night,
as the children grow tired from the cold dark streets,
and guard them home safely from the eve of fright.
© CMM 2013 All Hallow’s Eve
revised: CMM 2012
Within the winter’s storm, far beyond degrees,
delicate flower has weathered the rigid winter’s breeze.
If fallen snow does come in winter’s frozen ground,
I look outside my window noticing the pansy still around.
Don’t misunderstand the refinement of color, softness and touch
all too many thrust past grace, forgetting strength in much…
A slip, a footing,
both pent against the wedge of panic’s doom.
A slice of electrical surge
crippling my stance.
Yanking the distorted foot
out of its pitted doom,
it stops me,
A balance of consciousness,
a throbbing searing surge,
I step broken
one in front of the other.
Stepping into the climb,
one step, then two; more.
Top of the stairs,
a morose pause, then endurance—
I continue on —
© CMM 2009