Solar flare

Moon hangs



in rose sky


Sun has flown

to distant climes


& storm in night

brought first leaf fall


dried up golden crunch

soaked to soggy brown


Autumn holding out

her hands.


Waking in the night

animal cry, fox’s flight


my dreams are full

of you.




My golden boy

Narcissus lost


on southern beach:

between us


time has changed

no thing.


We laugh

our kisses


melt to heat

fire rekindled


in the Spring,

desire & love


so long a heady



You call, I call

we’re never far


from solar flare,


from point

of re ignition.

Late August

Morning coffee

autumn light


swallows flown,

& a chill touches


skin so brown

from summer sun.


Yellow berries hang;

it seems to me


my lemon tree grew

too green


this English summer.


I’m waiting for the

first leaf fall


poised on cliff

of pearl grey dawn


where the sea surfs

beneath my feet


& winter’s




To arrive at a place

I have known before


down the road

I did not take;


August turns to

autumn chill


combine harvests

golden grain


& the glow of

eclipsed moon


crosses the ancient



To know so much

I did not know


& yet little changes.


The shadow of a smile

in another’s eye


a small child’s footsteps.


To arrive at this place

& know it for


the first time.


The beloved offers

a single rose:


white like naked page,

yellowed now


with time & age;

a mystery still glimpsed


the stage empty.

4a.m. thunder:

rain, like time,




today you spoke

in tongues


I replied

high laughter.


Ebb & flow

of us


like the sea

you shimmer.


This weather

becomes you.


I’m flighty

rain full


of fantasy


lightning strikes

I wait for the kill


long lived pockets

of habit.


Like you,

it illuminates,


before hurrying

away to storm


another’s bastion.


This August


Fresh like autumn

too much rain


garden heaves

with green


rampant blossoms

bob their blousy heads


detonating petals

white & pink


to float away.


Too much green

trees are lowering


over me


sun a faint thimble

bouncing light


on sleeping lids.


I dream of distant

seas, aqua blue


lost beaches &

a sun that heats


blood & bone

to burning.


Here august

just begins


lilies pink with

pollen heads


& yet the morning

light, hides,


season’s change


whispers winter’s

but a breath away


& waiting.