Her Flaxen Hair

                                                                           

water runs full free and fast

flowing down cliffs 

through meadow and marsh

carrying effluent on its back

time rules the hour

wheels turn winds blow

over fields of grain 

swaying like waves

rolling with the tide

and her flaxen hair streamed

like silk ribbons flowing

golden and fair as she rode

in the balmy summer air

she rode across meadows

stretched long and wide

like a dark messenger

on a mission to hell

she paused beside a soft sandy mound

that breathed a sigh 

and a message ushered forth

from deep within its depths

only she understood

then turned mounted her ride

and rode into the wind with abandon

her flaxen hair streaming 

like fine silk ribbons trailing behind

she never looked back

at what was left behind

she rode and her flamen hair

flowed full and free 

on the soft balmy breeze

riding by her side

Beads

Beads                  

beads

on leaf

blossom petal

and bloom

beads 

laced round 

the neck

of my lady love

beads in eyes

on thighs

lips and 

tip of nose

beads 

glistening on skin

running down the middle

of your back

beads

nestled in clefts

where passion came

and was spent

beads

on the cusp

of a tear

hovering on a sigh

beads gathered on

tear-stained window

casement and

onto floor

beads 

that remember

all that was 

and is no more

Fishing

a man 

sits on a bank

dangling a line

over a gentle stream

the line dances

in morning light

a fish is pulled in

lying by his side

someone will eat

well tonight

Four

I

me

my

limited

compass

of

the pretentious

Swan In The Stream

swan

in 

the 

stream

becomes

two

in

one

The Road

if the road is willing

and the way

not too hard

we may meet

at the end 

of the beginning

and start again

A Boat

a boat glides low on water

without making a sound

or leaving a trace

of where it has been

or where it is going

Tactile

you want to

reach out

touch it

clutch it

caress it

possess it

relish each moment

as an ecstatic interlude

woven into the tapestry

of the evolving hours

unfolding in 

linear array

before light and warmth

find refuge in

shadow and shade

On Edge

suspended 

on edge

astride interstices

spanning a web

woven by the master

of disguise

to ensnare

the unaware

by the guise

of surprise

ever vigilant

and aware 

of what

invades his lair

dangling midair

Purpose

if life
fulfills its purpose
it is to know
and remember
what shaped its form
out of all
that came and went
and has remained
within