
still, the past persists

still, the past persists

the heart skips a beat for the early days of October

a vulture came to visit my chimney–
she spread her wings and ruffled her feathers,
and we stared at her in complete reverence

hot pink petals
this song: Most People Are Good by Luke Bryan
dreaming on a little side porch
fig newtons and hot tea
saturday mornings with friends
this book: The Journal 1837–1861 by Henry David Thoreau
dinner on a blue and white farm table
ice cream for the pup
hearty wildflowers and herbs on the edge of the forest
reading under light blankets at midnight
and this song: Hello It’s Me by Todd Rundgren


these are the weeds she would have removed and i love them all the more for their potent life force, their brilliant defiance


lives entwined–
one growing upon another,
memories overlapping;
your dreams embracing my dreams

she listens to the crow’s call,
and it’s like coming home

the tenderness of tiny blue flowers and the velvet touch of petunias, offer sprigs of happiness


with their erratic flight and soft buzzing she was hypnotized by the bees

the leaves fall, one by one–
the tears of summer days and youthful years