Poem Waiting to Happen

or lichen or something soft,measuring the weeds unhindered by bladedown hill from stone castleshrouded in shadeClouds- in thin lines, wrinkles in the horizon’s foreheador a rolling, boiling steweating up the skypreparing the delugeSwamp cooler hum

cricket songs

just beyond window

Slow ceiling fan throb

plays light against shadow

Crescent moons of light caught

in wire rim glasses

Curve of his mouth knows me

Supernova brilliance

challenges my creativity

Sunlight on green hill

freckled with wild flowers

Infinite possibilities for poetry

simple as holding hands

complicated as infidelity

poem © 2004