Where we meet

 Title: Our Own Season (or alternate: “Where We Meet”)

[Verse 1]
I come from the South, where the sun always shines,
Olive-skinned children sing rough lullabies.
Even the stones hold the heat of the day,
And the sunset whispers, “it’s time to begin.”

[Verse 2]
You come from the North, where the winter is long,
Snow hushes the voice of the aurora’s song.
You wait in the dark, with a heart full of light,
Longing for stars that dance through the night.

[Chorus]
We meet in the middle, under sky-splitting flame,
When the moon steals the sun, or a meteor came.
We plant our small hopes at the edge of the road—
Berries that bloom in the cold.
Proof that we both still bleed warm.
Proof that we both still belong.

[Verse 3]
We carry the fire from our corners of earth,
Trade southern gold for your northern mirth.
The compass was wild, but it led us true—
To a season not born until me and you.

[Final Chorus / Outro]
We meet in the middle, where the strange things begin,
Not summer, not winter, not where we’ve been.
We go on together, like stars on the run—
Creating a season that’s never been sung.

Our own season

I come from the South,
where olive-skinned children
sing with rough voices
their love for the sun—
where even the stones are warm,
and sunset signals beginning.

You come from the North,
where snow blankets the voice of the aurora,
whom you long to see
while you wait in the dark
through the long duration of winter.

We meet in the middle,
on the occasion of a celestial event—
an eclipse,
or beneath the thundering fear
of a fallen meteor.

We grow berries
at the edge of the road,
proof that still—
both of us carry warm blood.

And then,
we go on

to create our own season. whom you long to see
while you wait in the dark
through the long duration of winter.

We meet in the middle,
on the occasion of a celestial event—
an eclipse,
or beneath the thundering fear
of a fallen meteor.

We grow berries
at the edge of the road,
proof that still—
both of us carry warm blood.

And then,
we go on
to create our own season.

A Wish for Magical Mornings

I wish you some magical mornings,
when you slip into the light of day,
unknowingly performing a ritual of healing,
as body and mind spring to new life.

You hear the birds,
as if for the very first time,
their song a hymn to your awakening.

And the weary world,
so often blunt and gray,
pauses to wonder:
Where has this beauty been?

And oh, how glad we are
to see you—
reborn into this day.

Lemons and Mulberries 2

Lemons and mulberries,
a little acid to elevate
a taste for the sweet—
to remind you
that joy sometimes arrives with a sting.

The perspective you earn
from climbing trees—
beyond scraped elbows and bloodied knees—
is the raw view of courage
and the sky pressed close.

There’s a price in sharing fruit
with a friend:
a piece of yourself
passed palm to palm,
always an open hand.

Wound

To many blows have made a hole

The wound where all the blood 

Of poetry poured out

Onto the ground

Drained she waits 

For desert winds

To dry the tears

Into salty grains

Of rolling sand

Her body wrinkles

And contorts just like 

A tortured scream

Into the night

The moons takes 

Pity the man and turns her

Into the only tree 

That can survive this moral desert

And she reaches out 

An olive branch

Blow

Sometimes you get a very personal blow

To the stomach 

And your are expected to recover and even

Get better

Because they say whatever does not kill,,,

But does it heal?

And what about those football kids who got

Too many blows

What ever happened to their heads

Ministers

Please pray for our souls and keep our dreams

Alive

Offer

If you continue to add

Lively colors into my days

I will write poems 

For your paintings 

And will run to find

A singer in the street

To add his music

In the lower left

Corner

The one that hangs loose

And ready to flow

Out of the frame

With grace 

Though a dance .

This way

The arts will stay

With us 

In the same room,

Will day?

Broken

I have broken 1000 times

In a million pieces

And all it took was you

to swirl by 

in your form of light

From the north

To build me back 

Like a column 

Piercing the sky 

The colder I get 

The more fragile

Can you stay

Long enough

To make me green

Suple and soft

And ready for spring

For I have been long 

hungered for light

Search

November’s ending 

But It sent a beaver moon 

To get us out

With promises of light 

It’s gotten cold and dark

And we are out with flashlights

Looking for ourselves 

When maybe we should 

only hope to find 

Connections

To each other

Pairs

Things should come in pairs 

Like shoes

For symmetry reasons 

And Redundancy 

In case the left foot loses

Optimism

The right can kick things up

Powering through

Realms of quite silences

Or dips of energy

With the minimum

Required energy flow

Until restoration 

Of full power and joy.

Brothers

Writing with friends 

If your own pen is undecided 

Helps smooth the trajectory 

On the floor of the ballroom 

The words align

Sing to themselves

Sooth the listener

Dance in tandem.

limp

Adversity can crash the spirit

not even words come out

and when they do

they walk with a limp.

But if they manage 

to cross the long road

from me to you

why would you

not take them 

and wrap them

with care

for me

because

they may be

the only gift

all year

Shoes

I look around and I see

Small people trying to fill big shoes

Big people trying to fit into small shoes 

The pain of adjusting to circumstances

That never change fast enough

Except for the few perfect ones

The ones that slip into molds

Silvery sisters and brothers

Of all the common

Cinderellas I deeply respect 

And never expect to see wearing 

Shiny, but merely comfortably

Their loving Souls .

Light

Light was flowing gently at an angle 

Upon tormented waves

tickled as they were they sprinkled drops

Through salty half closed eyelids

As they laughed and jumped ashore

Just barely touching at is feet

The sandy one pushed back 

The waves took one more bite

The light tried and tried again

To tame them.

Stay sweet

The 20 miles were rolling up and down

In front of my bike and this guy 

Passed swiftly in front of me

With a pink shirt and totally fit 

And I could read on his back

In plain white the message 

“Stay sweet”.

At the crossroads we stopped

He turned his head back and he said

We are too light

then flew ahead as he smiled

leaving

He said

you will lose your soul if you go

He sighed

watch your step as you walk

He looked

as the light was getting harder

He listened

as the storm started to roar

He asked

will you chose love over war?

biking

The time of magnolias is when biking is best

When old trees work towards filling your lungs 

with fresh air and perfume

When you open your eyes

Because there are hills to climb

Lakes to swim and birds to applaud

For their lively concerts

And lazy mornings to unfold 

Lay upon grasses and rest

thank you

thank you lord for this rainy day

without which i would have not had time

to find joy in the current setting

of the life we were given to live, just once

thank you lord for the rain, scars, and the shadows,

for the silence without which i would never have 

appreciated the desert of pain, the light i have been bathing in 

and the music of the morning birds

thank you lord for this rainy day

when i count my friends round the table, 

and pour bitter coffee in unmatched cups 

as we get ready to sing and sweeten the day

thank you lord, even if i do not know how to pray

i know the night will crack open

and make room for the day

with the hands of love, and force of joy

bring it on, this new day

womens voices

you hear them lament

and you think their voices 

are beautiful and still

too thin

as if they are never enough

to fill the air

to cover the ground

to stand on their own

occasionally there are voices

rising above the chorus

they lift and vibrate

my chords and yours

they speak with an intensity

that makes the mouths of man

speak their words 

willing breaking the bonds

they lift up a storm

and then they fall sweetly

back into the chorus

now that we know

Words

You say fabulous

As I say good morning

And the reality of the day

Turns from inside out

Like a flower and blooms.