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Abbondanza di Limoni
Majolica rests on lace,
bowl brimming with fresh
limoni, their ever-ripening beauty
summon a sunny patina.
Anticipated consummation;
potential limoncello or pie,
lemonade that refreshes me
like stardust, or a first kiss.
Autumn Path
Crisp wind encourages
the crunch of leaves, the cyan
sky October pure, a copper canopy
rustling above us, its Titian
limbs creating a haven that
shelters a heart-carved
sanctuary for two, invites
us to nestle in autumn’s path,
let nature enkindle our spirits.
The Art of the Owens River Valley
We hover like the late summer
haze of Van Gogh’s “Wheatfield,”
listen to hush of murmurs flushed
from reeds that draw deeply
of the calm canvas river; it sustains
us like an act of kindness.
We follow a feathered bulrush floating
past pinyon pines, lifting us into post-
dawn that partially ducks the sun
as my eyes shadow yours, and you
brush against me, the golden reflections
a glaze on our smiling faces.
Backyard Grosbeak
Black-headed grosbeak
in bright euonymous tree,
perches on iron butterfly,
pondering seat for me.
Sings a mellow warble,
calling long and fluently
to it’s mate of muted colors,
above mock orange, free.
California Poppies
As I wander, I think of you & me
recalling there was also
“us”, before we were so far
apart (and sometimes are) like
poppy fields from the ocean waves,
though I try like the relentless
moon to harmonize the clash of
your crests with my whispered curl,
couple them into an eager sea -
like love - preserve it in iPhoto, vivid
as California poppies posed against blue
lupine and spring-rain grass that splash
the mountains I meander, bedazzled
by the brilliant orange, parted
from the foot path, hoping we meet…
Cambria Seascape
Listen… indigenous sounds, the croon
of gulls, a flute-like thrush - notes from
memories … imagine the mysterious
lifeforms that ride each wave as they
spill into the tide pools we enjoy
while we amble the boardwalk
along Moonstone Beach.
In the wind, Kniphofia flames burst
behind sea grasses, poke
their red hot petals towards the sun;
mint-blue hydrangeas, fashioned like
a lady’s lace shawl, turn coquettish faces
towards us, enviously aware that despite
their beauty, they can not share our freedom.
Walker Lake
We walk sedately into
superlatives of grace,
the peace that abounds
in this place; summer heat
shimmers here below
sightings of leisurely geese.
With a luster mirrored
by primordial salt crystals,
neutral tones, cool ice blue,
vanilla sand and dusty green
gather like friends; together,
silent stone clusters and our footprints
are held captive in the landscape .
Tranquility
Placid water
Quietude
Hushed, serene,
Softly hued
Dogwood tree
Fine array,
Draws me into
Length of stay.
Why do Koi
Linger where
Passers-by
Pause and stare?
Would I swim
Close to shore,
Or shyly hide
‘Neath stone door?
Fantasy
June’s perfume vanished too soon,
my spirit is still hungry.
Flower carpets roll out like glass
ceilings at Bellagio’s, breaking
my fantasy from another world.
The late sun harms and warms;
voiceless, I sing with the moonrise,
in the half-light where I belong,
learn to discern the darkness,
embrace it, and efface it.
My Red Dancer
You were born to
sing, a young version
of your mother, with
Dad’s soulful eyes
and exotic beauty that
belied the familiar
heart of reason, true
timbre and extraordinary
loyalty to those whom
you loved; my own Christine
Daae emerged, and the
voice of an angel swirled
onstage like a whirlwind
filled with song!
Like a Princess
You danced before
you were born, at
least it seemed so when
I cradled you in utero,
and questioned
at your birth, who
is this beauty, this miracle
come into my silent
world, treasured far
beyond celestial
music, beyond iridescent
dreams?
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