Her Aubade

is not one meant to be sung.
It is internal. Without melody. Sadly told.
Recited as she stands at the window,
still wearing his dress shirt left behind,
as he walks away. Returning never again.

Junelight

Northern Hemisphere June’s early-morning light accompanies me.
Perhaps it’s the same as September sunlight
but the earliest sunrises of the year
happen now with the northern summer solstice
and year’s longest day a week away.

Not Saving Daylight

Now, it is dark when I wake.

Morning walks seem quieter. Squirrels more casual.

Sunrise twice – over mountain, then over rooftops.

Pine needles perfectly arranged to look random.

I am walking east of my anger.

---

Here are some of my non-poetic thoughts about trying to save daylight.

Sleepless and alone, staring at the Moon

I play Satie softly not to awaken
her upstairs. I’m not much of a
musician, more a phonometrician, measuring and writing
down sounds as the Moon approaches fullness,
far from Paris, breathing in 3/4 time.

 

A Day at the River

“You aren’t just the age you are, you are all the ages you have ever been.” ~ Kenneth Koch

 

morning, pebbles making small ripples like fish

in afternoon sun, this was my beach

now empty but for summer moon and me

two silver waning slivers silent as water

a bridge that no one is crossing

 

Early June Morning

Air scented thickly from many spring flowers.
Heat inversion and fog and warming skin.
A morning so heavy that the peonies
can’t lift themselves to greet the sun.
I sit shaded, writing it all down.