I talk myself into my run
one foot in front of the other
climbing upwards challenged
laboring a little
just enough to remind me
I pass birds calling
aged trees standing still
among the wood line
while wild brown-eyed susans
wink in sway with a soft wind
a wind I need to release me
I do not stop until the trail ends
Midnight and the sea and wind plays just inside the moon.
Beacons flicker on the horizon to remind the sea the ships wait until morning light.
Unseen Artist’s brush sweeps white froth clouds against a midnight sky.
The poet listens to the wind’s promise to bring a rain shower to lead the dance.
The dust of the day , the worry of tomorrow finds a journey into a healing crescendo.
Copyright: 2016 CMM
Bleached white and muted grey wood line
Covered with spots of unthawed snow,
Patches of green grass left from summer.
The smoky grey morning clouds hang heavy
As the morning light breaks into a shadow cast.
Winter has taken hold into arctic temperatures
And still nature stays attentive to coming storms.
Sitting at my desk I am taken aback as one brave
Bird dares to break the silence and sing of spring
Pry upon my watchful eye,
as I see the sun go down
setting shadows on the ground.
Yet I know and then I hope
when darkness comes that I will cope
with the fact that this will be
For after December 21st
the snow will come from winter’s burst.
The sun will once again begin to shine
taking up more of the time
of day to give back to me;
my longing sense of sanity…
Copyrighted: 2010 CMM
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