River tryna freeze

River tryna freeze.
Old hip talks to papa now.
Red Dog don’t notice.

Winter

Precious sun retreats,
leaving night the frozen stage.
Dawn! Our salvation.

Did that tree make a sound?

Raise your hand if you believe a tree that falls in the forest makes noise even if no one hears it.

Now, raise your hand if you believe that writing a poem is worth the effort even if no one reads it.

Stopping by the world

Whose crimes these are I think I know.
Their place is in the fire below;
They will not see you shed a tear
Nor care a whit, death fast or slow.

The dying child is numb with fear
And choking as the end comes near
From breathing toxic fumes so thick,
From burning what we love so dear.

She gives the fog a wistful look
Remembering a pretty brook
That ran behind her house one day
Before the heat took it away.

The Earth was lovely, green with life,
But we cared so for things and strife,
And conquered her with greed so rife,
And conquered her with greed so rife.

Inspired by the poetry of Robert Frost.

Words hover out of reach

macro-1834138_1920bWords hover out of reach
like dragonflies
on a hot summer day,
fleeting glimpses
in shimmer and haze.
The mind drifts
from passing thought
to passing thought
to yet another.
Eyes see fear
in clouded eyes
and look away,
witnessing their own future
as a fading memory.