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
to ride off from the cold sun of winter’s promise.
Is it cold that slows the squirrel’s journey up
or their strife of yesterday’s feast of stowed summers.
The nip of hope, and the sting from the unknown,
stand as cold air in a windless day of frozen temperatures.
Yet, the move of the hours will re-ignite the heavenly stars
biding rest to the weary feeling full of the day’s survival.
Copyrighted: CMM 2009