Center

That I sit here
surrounded by
crayon drawings
of big headed girls
(she’s in her big head phase)

and photographs of family
sometimes startles me,
as
looking back,
I identified with
(then) planet Pluto.
The smallest
furthest away
speck of a world
and I marvel
at the collisions
which brought me
here.
Center.

What is this daytime you speak of

Morning
distinguishes itself from night
only in the quantity
of gray light it provides.
The rain still falls,
pulling color from life
as it washes down.
School buses splash by,
no longer yellow
but drifting in to
goldenrod
on their way down spectrum.
The color white
is only an abstract idea,
a Platonic ideal,
that exists
only in a perfect world
where perfect rain
reflects
perfect sun
and warms
souls.

Cabbage

Perhaps I’ll dance,
this afternoon,
while snowflakes cascade down,
clinging to my eyelashes,
blurring my vision,
presenting me a kaleidoscope world
where I’ll spin until
I’m too dizzy to stand,
so I’ll fall harmlessly
into a pile of leaves
then roll
into the cabbage patch
and see
if my head
stands out
in the crowd.

Whenever the Grays meet the Blues

Sandwiched between harsh light
and gray windows
I choose gray light
where at least a water color sky
offers cold greeting
and the small remains of yellow
dot the still green grass.
I color in the rest with red socks
and blue sleeves
before confronting the first day
of melancholy.
Perhaps I’ll dance
this afternoon.

Forced Focus

Dense fog

forces me to focus

on the world

in front of my eyes.

The horizon is a myth.

Turning the corner

reveals

November chrysanthemums,

burnt orange and butter

against

the gray-white fog,

brilliant color

planted

as though knowing

this day would arrive.

Revealed

only in the shroud.

Once Upon a Sidewalk

Darkness falls earlier.

Shorter days and time change,

change the atmosphere

of a simple walk downtown.

Shorter days and time change.

Downtown feels cosmopolitan

though it’s only three blocks long.

Lighted windows and inviting warmth.

Downtown feels cosmopolitan.

Coffee shops and frozen custard.

College students à la mode

smiling at the one holding my hand.

Coffee shops and frozen custard.

Frozen treats from the warmth of inside.

Looking out at the sidewalk, watching

as home passes by the window.

Why we have more than sight

Lying on my back,

under a tree,

in the woods,

wanting to capture

the perfect image

of a leaf in descent.

It seems important

to try and focus

on one leaf

among millions.

That there is something

one flight

against blue sky

can say.

But warm sun

distracts me,

begging me

to close my eyes

and listen

to the woods

whisper

and sigh.

I can hear

the sound of leaf

on leaf

as they crash

to the ground

with all the force

they can muster.

A slip of sound,

never noticed,

perhaps

only imagined.