These clouds are like smoke
They billow across the sky,
Puffing their way north by
Northwest, making way for
A patch of blue as pale as
Periwinkle, a color perfect
For the walls in a newborn's
Nursery. A first home color
Gentle on the eye, but sure
Of itself and unmuddled. Its
Baby blue as pure and light
As air on a balmy clear day
Light begins seeping in
Lightly, gently, so those
Obscured objects begin
To take shape and come
Out of their darkness, out
Of hiding in the dim room
Into the morning light as
It seeps slowly past the
Shade, turns shadow into
Substance, awakes all of
Us lying here with hunger
For a new day, eagerness
Of hope and of renewal
Do you, like I, have a
Favorite time of year
I am fond Ado Annie
Style whichever time
It is. When I'm not near
The season I love I love
The season I'm near. So
Sorry R&H for my huge
Transgression. All times
Are good seasons to
Celebrate. What? well,
The seasons, of course
But I love best of all the
Season known as autumn
I love it best, I do. Fall
Love is tender as fresh
Shoots of grass in the
Spring; sweet as new
Milk still warm; soft as
Velvet tight against the
Skin; easy as a breeze
Ruffling your hair on a
Cloudless day. Love is
A reason for being; a
Cause to be; a force as
Strong as the waves in
A surfer's dreams; calm
As a lake at sunset. It
Moves you. It haunts
You. It holds you. Love
Is as steady as a tailor's
Hand. Warm as an early
Summer's day. Love is
As hot, cold, surprising
As the seasons. Love is.
The red line in the sky illuminates
Not only my view but also guides
My reminiscences. There've been
Others, just like that or so similar
As to be a twin, a triplet, a dozen.
Who forgets when beauty leads?
Across two nights across the
Night sky lit from within lit by
A waning sun a rising moon
My skyline offers me drama
With a touch of dramamine.
That last bit is just an LOL or
A "ha" not an aha. There is a
Peace in its symmetry and in
Just how nature blends then
Highlights what man clearly
Is building across two nights
Across the night sky lit by a
Setting sun, or, by electricity,
From within or by the moon
The sun creates both sunlight
And shadow each an inverse
Of the other. It's shadows that
Seem the stronger one, written
On the granite face of the walk.
Elusive markings dependent on
Time of day position of the sun
Where they fall they also lead as
If they were breadcrumbs in a
Tale of Hansel or Gretel in their
Escape from a witch who only
Wants to fatten them, her cook
Pot awaiting the moment; they
Awaiting the run-for-it that sets
Them free. Shadows in a forest,
Following the crumbs that birds
Have messed on the way home.
Out of the shadows into the light.
Who is your favorite historical figure?
Too many people to admire or
Fear or laud if history is a guide.
Amelia Earhart took to the air,
Oh my. Flying, it's so tempting.
And a pilot is such an enviable
Person. Then, too, she was an
Accomplished woman. Freud,
He wrote a blueprint for living
And set a practice by which to
Define the intricacies of all our
Minds. Was he obsessed with
Pardon the expression s-e-x? If
Yes, his prose proved the most
Beautiful expression of how we
Grow and emerge as humans.
More contemporaneous people
Whose reputation I can covet
Include Mother Teresa? No, I
Have no wish at sainthood so
Even Joan of Arc is safe from
My desires. Joan Rivers? Yes,
Maybe. If so, because laughter
Was her gift to a world in tears.
Here I stand, trying to capture the
Essence of a sky so nuanced that
It eludes words. Its portrait won't
Stand still for my machinations or
The manipulations of the light. I do
See more than my lens or a pencil
Can impart. I claim it all as my own
It is my view after all, but I miss the
Point, lose track of the essential as
I ponder the details and minutiae
This is the close-up I need to capture
If I want to stay true to the vision I see
From all the characteristics of beauty I
Can only lay witness to some and gape
As the sky unfolds before me light and
Dark. It is my view after all but I miss
The point, lose track of the essential.
The essence is the mystery of night
Falling. I looked up at this one moment.
This is the close-up I need to capture
I trust my vision to
Others, that's why
I hit publish so fast.
Unsure if what I say
Will land or stand.
Sharing it with you
Is all I can do. I feel
Like Florence Foster
Jenkins, promoting
My shakiest high
Notes. Sending my
Thoughts, my poems
To the ether of the
Internet is my social
Act, making my mark,
Making it -whatever
It may be- sing or fly
Poem 2 Cloud Cover
My head is up in
The clouds as I
Have so often told
You, that collective
You to whom I write
For whom I write.
The clouds are my
Magic carpet, my
Highway to heaven.
A route so ephemeral
I fear to tread on its
Soft shoulders and
Wonder where they
Will take me just as
I wonder where they
Have gone as they
Float by and away.
Tamara, really