2018 April

7 April

the ducks

> They speak SO LOUDLY

> I hear them coming

> Long before they arrive.

> Their sound fills the air

> Demanding my attention

> Their voice cannot be ignored.

> I lift my eye but see not their wings

> Or bodies or heads or beaks

> But I remember them.

> I've seen them before

> I hear their message.

> Their shadows dance across the rooftops

> Over the grass

> And through my window

> Reminding me

> The power of my own voice

7 Apr

The night sky's promise of magic never ceases

As she creates mystery of images known

Wrestles fear in those who have forgotten

And warms the hearts of those who remember

The shadows of sounds become familiar

The facade of day irrelevant

The oneness of all undeniable

In the silhouette of trees who were once distinguishable become a single dimensional horizon of dark beauty