Observations

to watch a child
gaze on a fallen leaf
is this the birth of art
what myriad
of new beliefs
does such intercourse impart?
Or is this moment
one of science
in not the what but why
is all but new
philosophy
caught from
the unseen skies?
It matters not
I find myself
the question moot
becomes
for science, art, philosophy
are in the leaves
as one.

Brook

captured in the brook
golden sunlight holds my soul
a moment of peace

Season

as I write I watch leaves fall
though these lines aren’t for leaves at all
within these words I will impart
my love for you in autumn’s heart
to carry on through winter’s cold
even as my heart grows old
this verse will bloom as if spring new
as this rhyme’s reasoned season’s you.

Space

I look not on the stars in wonder
but the space they’ve torn asunder
for there is peace where no star sings
in the darkness everlasting,
Let them shine and pulse and burn
have them glow in every turn
yet in the black infinity
is where my dreams are meant to be.

Time

time flies
and in the autumn
its passing is measured
in breezes
upon golden oak leaves
out of reach
until, as we, they fall

BLACK HEART

this heart is black
though not from sin
or some other transgression
but
the leftover ashes
of incendiary passions

Sighs

in one of my sighs
she hears more about herself
than words ever say

Last Butterfly

the last butterfly
drinks of the rose’s nectar
dare I think of you?

Age

the age is autumn
yet for all its poetry
it brings no wisdom

Clarity

this mind allows no clarity
troubles hide beyond the light
I see the world in abstract hues
a harvest moon obscured by night
uncertainty moves as a cloud
across skies that were once clear
and truths that shone once like the stars
burn away as do the years,
thus unsophisticated rhymes
become as journal to the lost,
the memories and once beliefs
these years of waning moons have cost.