A Day is Our Life

Life dawns like sunrise

Soft pinks and blues against the black from which it came

Sudden burst of light stretching fingers and toes to a new day.

Receiving blankets of fluffy white

Soft breezes, from Mother Earth, kiss the cheeks of a brand new day.

Spread your wings and announce our new life for we are blessed!

Rustle the name through the leaves, over fields and hills

Blow strong over the oceans

Grow tall from sapling to a mighty oak

Early morning of our life is for bountiful energy and spunk

Splashing and running, carrying treasures to unknown banks afar.

Frolicking from tree to tree chasing the cottonwood seeds

Then approached the noon of our lives

A time to pause; to partake of nourishment from our hearts and minds

Lying in fields of bluebonnets and pink poppies

Nestled in beds of paint brush and purple clover

Revel in your time for it is short!

The hours roll by, to a cool afternoon breeze.

Blow softly for the afternoon is mellow

The lake lays still; no ripples in its tranquility.

Comfort years of life taking an afternoon siesta

Bask in the sun; remember the morning.

Early hours well spent exploring.

Places where you once played buccaneer,

Shrubs that just this morning hid fortresses

Now each picturesque against a landscape of Kentucky Blue

Too soon Dusk arrives on a charcoal gray charger

Thundering its arrival in the swirl of gluttonous clouds

Chasing you, you seek shelter under the weeping willows

Water rushes in a swirl of memories

Rippling creeks to still waters

The hills no longer beckon

They no longer hold the fascination of an earlier time.

Darkness blankets the earth

Your sit and watch the light show in the sky.

The sun no longer shines through the down pour of tears.

You reminisce

It was a good day, your life!

From the sunrise to your sunset.

The Circle Resumes

Sentries of the night stand guard in perfect formation

Across the stretch of wire, like clothespins on a line

While speckled flocks of grackle stain the landscape

Spots of black against a field of brown.

As if on cue, they choreographic their flight

Up and down, like waves at low tide

Just a ripple before they settle

Bobbing to a minuet as old as time.

Chatter of excitement as they discuss the day’s events

Children too excited to sleep, too restless to stay still

Something moves, and the sentries cry out a warning,

Taking flight, the sea bursts forth into the sky

Absorbing the last strands of light

They take flight across the shallow riverbed.

Reflections of black specks against the setting rays of sun

Up towards the back wash of brilliant pinks and yellows

Shards of cerulean attempting to hold back the sapphire night

A finger-painting of bleeding hues

Streaked across a mat from a single orange focal point.

A stroke of madness in a painting of harmony.

Night’s orchestra tunes up for tomorrows concert

They return at dawn to greet the day

Renewing once again the sonnet of the night

And the circle resumes.

*Photo from Clip art by Microsoft

Battlefields of Discontented Dreams

Another year has marched out of my life.

A crusading warrior making his way back home,

Leaving bloody battlefields in his wake.

Trampled valleys where dreams once stood.

In the beginning, the year tiptoed in,

Softly sprinkling crystallized wishes.

Ideas, floating like a fine dusting of snow,

Forming a light covering on my bed of anticipation.

In swept the Ides of Spring laden with promises.

Storms tossing my wants in a turbulent sea of needs.

I planted my seeds with the expectancy of progression,

Hoping to find nourishment for my battered soul.

Summer scorched a path through my life

Bringing passion and potential to my fertile soil

Growing, thriving, reaching for the budding of fulfillment

Hopes alive, green and fresh, standing tall against adversity.

Autumn flew in on the winds of a changeling,

Taking the abundance and leaving a barren field.

Stripped of optimism, I wander in the fields of despair,

Wondering where my footpath led me astray.

Yes wicked winter with your freezing rains.

You beat against me, leaving blisters in your wake.

But Spring will return, of this I am certain,

Bringing with it the possibilities of contentment.

I Smell a Memory Coming On

The scents I remember like hand rolled cigars

Wine cask lined cellars in musty cool basements

Chocolate miniatures nestled in bright candy dishes

Tea leaves and mint steeping in dainty china cups.

Baked goods cooling on the kitchen counter

Roast with potatoes in a rich onion broth

Lilacs and roses lined on back yard fences

Channel #5 clings to grandmother’s sweater

Scents I remember from childhood spent

Fondly reminiscing with a wistful smile

In this sterile world I live in now

What will my grandchildren remember?

No leaves burnt on a cold autumn night

No carcinogens cooked over red hot coals

No second hand smoke that will cling to your clothes

No hairspray, no tea roses, no creams or colognes

No Sundays exploring my old Aunt Ruth’s farm

No chickens or guineas; no old dusty barns

No fresh moved hay or cinnamon apple pies

Just disinfected, purified, Ionic fresh air.

Inner Anguish

Two men sitting on a stoop

Day dawning as the rush of cars drive by

Drinking coffee from Styrofoam cups

One old, one young, they discuss the weather

Air already warm before the sun has even risen

Not a cloud in the sky to promise rain

Old woman pushing a shopping cart passed the men

Old man nods his head as she shuffles by

All her belongings crammed into black garbage bags

Girl in scrubs waiting at the corner bus stop

Boy in jeans, backpack hangs off one shoulder

Looks about his neighborhood with hooded eyes

Yesterday’s newspaper lays abandoned on the bench

Headlines read Economy in Constant Decline

No change to the everyday existence in the inner city

Rush Hour

I rush through each day as if I have endless days ahead of me
When in reality each day is counting down to my demise
I awake each morning running my day through my mind
Planning on how to get there in the shortest amount of time

I rush through traffic, angry that it is moving so slowly
I run through the halls, arriving at my office out of breath
Logging in as I throw my purse in a drawer, the clerk reminds me of a meeting
There's fifty emails to answer and the blasted light on my phone is blinking

Burning my tongue on a cup of coffee, I rush down the stairs clutching my PDA
Deleting messages on my way to another conference I'm not ready for
To be told to move their projects to the top of my priorities
I return to my desk and scratch another due date to my to do list

Lunch comes and goes as I swallow yet another yogurt and banana
I should have stock in these companies; it's my daily substance
Budget is due and the contracts are behind; by the way where is my handouts?
I still haven't answered that stupid light on my phone

The day is finished and I finally get around to the messages
One is canceling tomorrows meeting but there are two to replace it.
The last call is my doctors office telling me the biopsy is back
Could I make an appointment to see the doctor right away; it's abnormal.

Cars honk as they pass me in their hurry to nowhere
I don't see them through the veil of tears streaming off my cheek
Did I just pass my exit?  I don't care.
I'm no longer in a hurry; the sun has just set on my day.