What is your weather?
So delicate and sure
Sentinal of harvest.
What once glowed gold
Now delicately so tender,
Brown and wilted;
Seeds like rain
Fall from your mane
In one breath of wind
Shaken your stand.
Of all the ancient history
Stored in your very seed,
How does each season
Keep bringing you to me?
So that our fields can grow
Yellow in the fond sun,
So that our vase can be
Filled up with royal thee.
It is not for the beat of my drum
It is for the beating of the sun
Cooked in red/yellow rays
Reminding me of an old letter
That came in the mail
Holding three dried rose petals
And one single ring
Caressed in my worn hands
Like a mother would
On the day that love did win
That shall come to pass.
Green, yellow, brown
Orange, lime
Gray, black
Inside the daisy
There spoke a new world
That lazily
Awoke embers
Alive sang their song
Alert their dancing legs
Two hold hands
And remembering distant lands
Two suns were their orbit
Sun One and Sun Two
Yellow golden hue
Inside the daisy
I woke into a frightful terror
That lasted until noon
Two eyes of spoken yellow glowed
Terror to my soul
Then wafted into my study so soon
A fragrance of the beast
Leaving me to recollect
My passing there that noon.
Look at me
Honeybee
I’m in the sky
On every flower
I’m with the sun
And this is fun
Ohhh be
My honeybee
Let’s make a run
To every pistil
Yellow, blue
And violet whistles
Dance around
Have some fun
Ohhh see
My honeybee
You and me
We’d be free
Just you and me
Forever free
In every field
Of wild poppies
This is still desire
Full of yellow hands
Catching magic balls
Of amber glowing plans
I knew a name that blew
Wind so cruel it knew
An answer every night
Sleepless I lay out of sight
Enchanters sang
Each silhouette climbed
So dust stung my eyes
Glistening not a surprise
Drifting words
A lone wolf and my song
And I, dusty evermore.
My notes have all gone to yellow
Ageless they ring mellow
A bangle precedes each thy name
Faint hope but nothing remains
A fool’s enchanted again
And the walls are alive.
Afternoon, Clover
Bring me Yellow, forever
In tunes leftover
Imagining another
Toes dipped into
Running water
Reflection’s gone
On muddy shores
Of afternoon, Clover.
I was influenced by a caveman
A landscape with two carved rocks
And fire to keep me awake at night.
We were inseparable
Two rhinestones in a yellow cup
Dead blind in middle earth
Losing daylight hours
In our metronome;
Lessons influenced
By a better man.
Home again, paid again
Leaving marks upon little stones
Giving a poem to memory
On a midnight string and there you are
A stonemason and a better man.