The Calm Before The Storm

Hollow

I witnessed a grim whisper,
Strangled in a gust of wind,
Sucking life for one last breath,
Just to warn wilted leaves,
They dangled by a thread

of seasons' sorrow. Rasps
as from the calf; Half hoarse
From the day-long bellows, Unanswered
and lonely for that gentle face.
At last accepted loss for a safe place to nap
But happened upon a wasp nest,
Raw fate…..soft in the daisies.

Greys rank in groves, dampen moans
Nips in the waft of eroded omens
Strict grooves slip through
slow groans in the trees,

From an owl's home, hollow in a branch,
Neglection echos, quiver in stone.
Carries away another coat of protection,
Exposure to the core,
Winter wields its frigid weapons
I witnessed grim whispers.….
Suggestion of war

Echoing Tree Moan

Skeleton Coast

Cobalt blue, follows the seas,
Playfully nudging a breeze toward the sun.
Newborn rays, tease waving swells.
Kissing the ripples, gold as they run.

Tap-dancing atop laughing waves,
Whitecaps slap happily at gulls.
Flashing with brilliance lapping at skulls.

Through the mist they glare on the beach,
Those scattered white-washed grins.
Littering the sand,
glistoning eyes,
Unwavering as they bleach.

The skeletal reefs,
Bare their corral claws.
The scattered shipswrecks grieve,
Their battered hulls in awe.

Exile Tragedy Mirage

Skeleton Beach

Beneath teeming seagulls,
stark on the blue,
Weaving and swaying,
in the harsh expanse.
On scorching sand,
A simmering hue,
And the shimmering mist romance.

The ‘Skeleton beach’ lay host,
to the storm weary sailing limp.
In a foggy trance drifting for hints,
wispy in the wakes,
hushed for a glimpse,
Until battered ships hulls glance.
Castaway in a gust from the coast,
Any whispering ghost of a chance.

Marooned souls loom,
Adrift in the gloom.
Whispers spawn mildew,
from shipwrecks perfume.
As they ebb, and yaw,
Reminiscing their doom.

Evidently Tragic Monsoon

The Course of Prayers

A timber wolf howl
shivers the silence,
His victory still haunting
in steam from the pelt.
Gray foxes trading yelps
track a wounded loon,
As a cloud full of prayers
from the Bible Belt,
Sways between tides
‘cross the slack of the moon.

A gopher runs
a possum hides,
A hoot from a hollow
Amplifies.
Through soft night air
as the owl flies,
in disguise of it's wings
that rustle like branches.
Brushing against leaves
on a gust so subtle,
Just barely disturbing
the hush of the breeze.

The crickets keep kicking
like crazy against wings,
Seems to lick darkness
from the edge of clearings.
Bringing waves of liquid hiccups
glistening the way.

Though nothing stops to listen
on that little path for heaven,
Where dew plays tricks with moonshine.
That quickly gets lost in the thickening haze.

Evening Tide Moonshine