I sit before you all that I have,

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

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,

I wait.

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