sludge spot

there's a spot under the pot

where the sun never shines

the moss is growing fast

the water never dries

a year or two or maybe three

the warp has now set in

the rot is strong it won't last long

entropy in 3-D

pine needles join the dance

a moldy tango fierce

another drop another drip

the point of no return

beneath the moss under the pot

the wood is holding still

but touch the spot full of rot 

it crumbles instantly

beware the dark and damp

where no light enters in

things left too long decay

compost in formation

before that moment passes by

move the pot let it dry

coming

spring is dark mornings

when you feel set back

when life is bursting

but it is hard to get started

a flower slowly opens

and snow showers down

the unending night continues

getting shorter each day

you find something you lost

and lost something you found

and sometimes you are unsure

which is the right way up

each moment is full of hope

a potent elixir of potential

your dreams full of omens

an unmade world out of reach

the waking hours seem long

your heavy feet drag

spring is everything possible

nothing seems to happen

until you turn around

and winter is gone

orphan thoughts

i hold a small life in my hands

it moves, it breathes, it purrs

its days are numbered this is one

as it runs to two i think of others

this winter season ending time

a parent lost a loved one gone

a moving breathing life silent

just as i was once held

the arms that hold me hold no longer

though you may become the one

who holds the small beating life

you are never ready to be an orphan

when you can no longer nestle

find security in a strong embrace

the sun still shines and the day is three

counting down to eternity

i hold the little fur ball closer

four of how many days are past

i grasp life in this fleeting moment

as Dillard ironically noted

instead of holding on to rocks

my orphan heart seeks others

small lives to snuggle close

until the day is done

windchime

hang me where the summer breeze

plays soft and low upon my skin

or in the northeast corner cool

where winter winters blow hard

I'll sing out loud or softly mourn

dancing to fickle touch

the wind's my love he never stays

but comes and goes without a word

come stormy gales or zephyrs fair

he has no voice so I must be

his song for all to hear

winter sunshine

i'm walking in a wonderland

but not of snow

the air is clear

no rain in sight

what is this magic

this breeze that teases

hints of spring belie

the dark january days

i spread my fingers wide

catch warmth and wind

flying high above

the groaning days

my silly broken heart

still hopes anew

that in the gloom

a light still shines

this winter sunshine

this longing fierce

for joyful times

for peace on earth

hope against hope

believing is seeing

i turn my face upwards