Japanese Maple in Late November

Leaves fall,

uncloaking the grand oak.

The cricket’s song

drifts away with the breeze.

But the delicate Japanese maple

remains glorious and resplendent.


Lying under a charcoal sky,

leaves falling like memories of time past,

I turn my head and see you

in the distance.

You-the ruby haired queen

standing on the rampart

watching battle weary soldiers fall.

And I understand hope.

Shadows and Light

Life with you was shadows and light.

On days when there was only light,

there was never only light.

A small step

in either direction

and you would cast your shadow.

Some days it would remain small

yet present.

It would ruminate

and wait

and then grow.

It would grow

until it reigned over us.

And tears would rain

from eyes

that searched

longing for light’s return.

If only it was always shadow,

the light would not be missed.

But such was not our fate.


Now that you are gone, it is only shadow-

that haunts my memories

that burdens my conscience

that chases the light.







An end

that never ends

For One To Whom This Should Not Be…

For one to whom this should not be for you

were meant to love me.

But, so confused, you thought me you

and misread my heart as yours.

But in my heart love was there

even as you cast blame for all your hurt and pain

upon the one who was always true.


Together, we journeyed-across oceans, through time.

We stood upon a thousand shores and gazed upon a thousand reflections

until land and pool, person and image blurred into your vision

of a dark world of black waters and jagged rocks.


In your vessel we voyaged to fantastic lands

of whispers and gods and monsters and secrets


I left you for a fortunate isle.

I left you to journey alone

into your will

into your darkness

into your end.


I think I will whisper truth, truth, truth into the wind.

Perhaps a gull will carry my message and perch herself upon your ship’s mast

and whisper





When you reach your end, will you know?

Know the truth.

It is my hope-not for vengeance but for justice that only the truth can yield.

Winter’s Son

You came from a place of warmth and light

and found me on that cold winter night.

I held you in a mother’s embrace.

Of what was to come, there was no trace.


You came so full of contradictions

now ruled by human jurisdiction,

and thrust upon life’s sacred altar.

Her powerful swell makes you falter.


Lumbering through balmy days of woe

except when moving through the deep snow

where you dance through the drifts with delight,

your heavy body suddenly light.


Senses so different than the rest

some have proposed that you have been blessed

to cross the tundra with your bare feet

and walk desert sands in scorching heat.


I don’t know.

I just don’t know.

Can you tell me?

Can you share

just a bit of what we cannot hear?

Of what you see fit for our ears?


Can you make sense of it in some way?

Can you work it out while other children play?

Or can you not share what you know

of what makes others despair?


But not you little one.

You do not despair.

You walk on icicles

through winter’s harsh glare

and feel it all,

the heat and the cold.

You feel it all

as it all unfolds.

And you hold out your hand.


Chubby fingers meant to do man’s work.

A burdened boy whose free spirit lurks

awaiting release from confinement

to relish his earthly assignment

with the wonder and joy of a little boy.





The heaviness you left

The heaviness you gave

The heaviness that still persists in my heart

The heaviness of you that lives in my memory

The heaviness of your presence as you exist now

The heaviness of lost opportunity

Of a life lost

Sinks me

If only I could shed this burden

If only I could shed you

If only it weren’t for this love

that rests in my heart

This love

that is the constant companion of all this weight

If only this love

would ease the burden

If only it could

But it is love

that makes it all so much heavier

And it is love

that keeps you afloat

as I drown

Fade Into Another Place


Out of the corner of my eye

I spy

a flash.

It is black.

Perhaps a cat?

Not my cat.

He has long since departed.

But another,

I imagine,

who has found his way inside

this place where I reside.

Funny though.

Not too long ago,

I had a visit from a friend

who everyone tells me

has long been dead.

But oh so real

as we sat and had a cup of tea.

“Don’t you see?”

I asked the man who resides with me.

“She is here

in the chair,

as plain as can be.”

Is it something that haunts this place?

I contemplate

as I sit

and wait

for another friend to arrive.

But, I know.

I know.

This is an empty place,

and I must journey alone.

No friends to accompany me

as I make my way

past faceless strangers who talk and whisper.

I listen,

and I try to hear.

Will they confirm my deepest fear?

Their voices rise-

a cacophonous symphony

as they chatter




Silence is what I need

to concentrate and discern

what is real

and what is make-believe.

And so I go

and go

and go

until I fade away

into another place

where, perhaps,

I will be young again.