It is spoken.

The rain hasn't started
but I can hear it.
It is screaming from the thick morbid
veil across the sky

It is moaning through the fabric
tousled by the wind

It is spoken by the quiet
voices inside coffee shops

It is heard as the roots cry out
to the clouds for life

and the leaves breath in
the ladden air

the rain hasn't started
but I can hear it.


twilight (in progress)

Silhouettes
Outlines
Figures in black
Claim the skyline

They're standing still
immobile
and yet fluidly alive
transforming the present
by releasing the past

The conifers become giants
each mountain, a dragon
their darkness breathing life
to the solemn blue blanket of night

And their fire is seen in the heavens
with each new flicker of light
found in the dimming dry ocean
calling all to the evening's warmth

the heart which sailed the ocean blue

I knew a girl who had a heart
that longed to sail the ocean blue
she had not the heart of a mistress or maid
but that of a sailor, learned in his trade

It's beat could sound the depths of the deep
It's pulse could quicken the creatures beneath
this heart ruled it's owner, you see

From the bow of the boat, it made her leap
into the silent oceans deep
From the top of the sail it made her fly
from the tip of the waves to the edge of the sky

She soared o'r the the wind
and met birds in her flight
pelicans, seagulls and winged messengers of the night

She flew o'r the waters and
met sea creatures too!
The turtle, dolphin, and wales
made a hula baloo!

But when she had nearly finished her very first flight
Her heart wanted more, which she couldn't set right
For the wind was to fierce
and the waves were to strong
and she didn't believe the sirens song

So she left her heart there
in the depths of the sea
to be rediscovered by you and me
She returned to the boat and set things aright
and made the long voyage home with all of her might

a flower grows

"A flower grows! Look, a flower grows!" A young girl squeals in excitement. Her father peers in search of the source of her delight. "Yeah, honey, there's a flower there". Now, the whole neighborhood has heard her cherished phrase.

Each person stops to realize they haven't quite noticed the bloom. How is it that this flower is on the face of every child, yet we have failed to see it? Yearning for sunlight, the blossom unfolds in the darkest places. In the midst of hunger, poverty, abandonment, war and desolation it is not afraid to unfurl it's petals.

Yet it's eagerness has been misunderstood. It's youth mistaken for foolishness. How have children become the flowers we have learned to ignore? What lessons has a child to give? Is there an end to such a question? To answer this is to discover a priceless gift.