Seeking after that sweet golden clime*

Nothing fills the chasm of your absence
like the crest of a wind swept summit
the arm of summer warm on my shoulders
and the craggy echo of September sun
reflected in the face of a placid lake

*with a nod to William Blake

she brings me dragonflies (for Aysia)

with wide eyes, wonder-full
and outstretched arms

she comes to me

I have a gift for you
something I found

delicate hands lift
the jarred amber insect
      
vellum wings gravely
drawn under its body

perfectly still

Poet’s Lament

what courage, to sacrifice essence

on the altar of misconception

to those who may not know

enough to plunge the knife

when I lie on these stones

when darkness draws 

me into his arms 

I do not mind the quiet

*Seeking after that sweet golden clime

nothing fills the chasm of your absence like a wind swept summit and the arm of summer across my shoulders
*with a nod to William Blake