Walking Home on a Dark Night
On a dark night, the stars
offer promise,
but they’re far away, buried
in the deepness of the sky.
The moon is there,
but who knows why.
Yet our life was created
from such unpromising matter.
Things aren’t what
they seem.
What do they mean?
I watch a comet streak
across the sky,
then just as soon as it appears,
it swiftly dies.
Stardust
Leaves descend cheerfully,
circling fraternally.
Then they fall into their
comfortable beds
when they’re dead.
The sun disappears every night,
and like a stand-in,
the moon takes its place
with its stone cold face.
Night is a drifting ocean
which has no shore,
and as its shadow
inches across my floor.
I find no comfort,
when it exits my door.
The Intangibles
Winter freezes the hands and feet,
and the mind is numbed to sleep,
and yet life continues.
Nature is an uneasy balance.
When something dies,
something takes its place.
A hawk selects an unwary wren.
The wren’s death
is the hawk’s gain.
Its young will be fed.
As stars fade from the sky,
they’re already dead.
It’s my fate
to simply wonder why.
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