Sunday, August 1, 2010

hole in a cloud

you were never proud
of losing your raindrops.
from four corners
came the sound--
the crackle of iron.
pots and pans jangling,
fire and metal tangling.
you pointed,
drawing out a map
to your heart
for me to see--
it's outline disappearing
like the funny squiggles
we drew in the clay of coves.
a mist cast the sky in white
and your eyes fled to the trees,
two gray wrens taking flight.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

The Approaching Lion, The Impending Flame

The Georgian summer brings with it a heated passion. The sun bears down upon the soil, drawing jagged lines between the shade of oaks. August (the reign of the lion) approaches.