sounds of the city

The humid air licks my toes while a soft breeze picks up -
a welcome respite from our oppressive heat.

A secret dream:
My spirit wriggles and writhes in anticipation of the fall.
When we'll wear sweaters and dance, snuggled tightly,
holding hands in the cool twilight to keep warm
(and because our hands search each other out without thought).
There will be a next new season for us in our home.

The sounds here are unfamiliar and only mildly full of nature.
We're surrounded by small patches of grassy lawns
and the noises of bugs that exist everywhere.

Something rubs its legs together,
making an insect's musical soundtrack to a Saturday.
A handyman tinkers and pounds away on something nearby
as his wife leaves him to his own devices
(and a moment's peace to subdue his dominion).
Air conditioners and cars hum and whoosh -
we are a city people,
our bikes locked securely.

That bee buzzing nearby doesn't annoy today.
I welcome the company on this porch
so removed from the vast peace of nature's fields.

Wednesday poetry

the river
psalm 63

We draw near to your waters,
a thirsty people
parched and begging
for our portion and more
than we deserve.

Our thirst makes us greedy and desperate,
frenzied and ultimately
relieved when we can see that the
water level remains unchanged
as we nobly attempt to drain you.

We float through your waters -
embracing one another,
giving thanks that we can float
and that the water isn’t solid
but has life and keeps pushing us onward.

The quickness of the current isn’t always natural,
yet we are learning not to fight
(as our fragile bodies do not do well with fatigue).

In due time you will take us where you will,
in the pace you’ve perfected over millennia.

Burn...cont'd.

Thought my few and faithful might appreciate the efforts of two rounds with a particularly crimson pen. I’m calling this one for the Sharpie.

From my back

Puffy white vapor of cloud –
You b r e e z e
across this lapis dome of sky
with such smoky slowness,
dissipating after a minute or two.

Just a second ago your soft molecules
gathered in a marshmallow-y cluster
to form magic things
(lobsters and continents and the like)
before shape-shifting into something
like a cactus or a diving bird
with a too-long wing.

Oh, to be like you,
easily releasing shape as it suits.

We Are Growing Old Together

This day, so beautiful,
bubbles up towards the heavens.
It rides the gusts of wind upupup
like a gravity-defiant brook or
the bits of breath behind a prayer.

The things you do will not
surprise me,
though I try to be jaded.

Utterly simple,
you will not strut about
with your blessings:
a friendly wink,

a coyly given phone number…

a bus ride,

four miles finished,

eggs and toast and mmmmmm, coffee,

sunshine and shaded chairs,

hipster girls,

articles about Africa,

phone lines to North Carolina,

big water bottles,

bare feet

and newly shorn hair.

In these coincidences,
my heart’s fiery embers are stoked.
Simmering quietly,
as a child just entrusted with a secret
and struck by your vastness,
I am left to
let my thoughts swim about the warm air of this
frenzied Sunday.

Then I’ll realize that heaven is here,
in this city place -
just jumps away from the blue skies above
and eternity.