Category: American Place

The full blue moon set
This morning on Hallow’s Day

A Day for Dead
To be remembered

Alters built
For friends and pets
Family, loved ones
These ancestors we’ve kept
In tales of remembrance.

The power of the story
To recall the spirit
Of our cherished gone.

We long
For resurrection!
And within
These brief moments
They are here
— With us.

The withering leaves
Holding on to the green
As they struggle
Laden with
Snow to control
The last moments
Of their living existence
Short the distance
To the ground
Where they will soon
Be piled up
Into fond
Childhood Memories

A fresh start
Like cold autumn air
Pulling back the heat curtain
To reveal brisk brightness
That bites at the lungs
And steams out your mouth.
A cup of hot coffee
Vapor currents dancing
From its circular rim…
So it begins

And we scan the horizon
For Hot Air Balloons
That aren’t rising this year.
No mass ascension
To draw your attention
Away from the boring end
of summer.

In this Covid time
No gathering sublime
to race off into
the sunrise.

Here we sit
and take a sip
of our cooling coffee
at the breakfast table
unable to escape another day.