The Little Dream

A wish awash in rust and aubergine
Stuffed away in the cleft of my heart
No light of day has it often seen
But merely the suffocating dark

And then that glimpse of something and green
Stirs embers that whirl and jump and spark
So I hold on to the life I've seen
And hazard down the road to start

Best Friend

There's all the big part of space.
Then, there's you.
Meek and compressed in frozen repose
Or sprawled out prone at all angles

Somehow, they both fit you
In a way that being finite cannot
You are a comparative study in comfort

The Change of Grey

How strange the quality of grey
Among the air today
Not a sorrowful hue
Nearly a dread to rue

Strange color transformed
Even unequal though same
Clouds and sounds so stormed
But my heart cries a different name

Then, even the turn of the fates
From gentility to shuddering sputter
Does not alter prior dictates
Only proves existence of a stutter

Pretty, slow rain

The patter and the pattern
Of consistent quenching rain
Is a standard waking cry
And budding flora's main

Warm water streams down gutters
Drips from branch and roof and blade
To rest in the quiet rich deep
Memories of, never to fade

Rain on the Roof

Bright silver spots fade with the gray of companionship
Each drop joining the last to soak the stubbly shingles
The slightest of angles sways the unending lines
And the shimmering moist green wafts perfume, abundant

Four days before spring

The time it takes
The stately tree
To become attired
Seems to me
In relation to
The gravity
Over which
It's had to break free

Five days before spring

The green buds sprouting
Among budding purple nibs
Branches ripe to grow

Almost impossible
The warmth braided with breeze
Calm new from winter

Indigo skyline
Songs, songs, songs thrive over noise
Ev'ning settles in