Tag: #dverseMTB

And the Rains Came…

“If people were seasons, she’d be monsoon. After every downpour, the garden laughed like her, wild and free.”  ― Meeta Ahluwalia Summer monsoons come rolling in every nightoffering a respite from harsh intense heatAs lightning and thunder light up desert skiesfat drops of hot rain… Continue Reading “And the Rains Came…”

Aubade to Early Dawn

“Startled by the earth at dawn. It was far too green”- Jim Harrison, Dead Man’s Float Early dawn-Fresh leaves on sprawling old mesquitegleams in pearly sunlightChartreuse brilliance againsta cloudless smoke blue skySwarms of tiny flies rise, swirlingin soft air as ruby-throated hummingbirdsdart after their… Continue Reading “Aubade to Early Dawn”

In-Between Moments of Love

“I want To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”  ― Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair Scent of white jasmine on a moonlit nightin-between moments of love A nightingale singing in blue twilightin-between moments of love Cicadas calling… Continue Reading “In-Between Moments of Love”

In Response to The One Truth

“I see today that everyone on earth wants the answer to the same question but none has the language to ask it.”– Jim Harrison The One Truth I want to ask the moonhow many lovers she has had forI know it must be manywith… Continue Reading “In Response to The One Truth”

The Old Man on Pont Neuf

It’s a misty morningas I stand on Pont Neuf listening to soft lappingof water against wood The scene is like a dreamas the fog grows thickand then a dull tappingof a wood cane on brick A ghostly grey old manout of the fog appearswearing a… Continue Reading “The Old Man on Pont Neuf”

My Hands, Your Hands

“Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we’ve ever met.”  ― Marguerite Duras My hands that held yours in the last months of life have now become your hands a parchment of antique white Though memories of you never leave  In dark shadows of missing you, I only need to… Continue Reading “My Hands, Your Hands”

Will-O’-Wisp

In fading grey twilight cool and crisp before night’s orchestra comes alivethere in marshland floats a will -o’- wispand swamp creatures run from the ghostly surprise When night’s melodic orchestra comes alivegreat horned owls hunt for skittering preyswamp creatures run from the ghostly surpriseas gnarled… Continue Reading “Will-O’-Wisp”

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