Holding Pattern

Myriad designs appear

        shifting,

Impossible to predict,

        their scope or temperature,

            mood or longevity.

How capricious

        our elusive, ephemeral life.

That much we 

        can depend on.

Burning Questions

Can we be friends?
Can we survive?
Can we agree?
Can we believe and disbelieve
And still agree
And still be friends
And still survive?

The thread between
You (the big you) and
Me (the whole me)
Feels strong and insubstantial,
Like the air we breathe,
The inscrutable sea.

Smoke drifts down from Canada,
Refugees from Kiev,
Great white sharks upon our shores,
Arctic curlews leave.
I dream of flooded floors
In a second story home.

When the smell of fire
Decorates the yellow sky,
These uninvited facts
Creep in and multiply.
I wake and rub my eyes
While the birds cry.

Portal

In the stream of my day

ripples cause barely a stir;

contentment is tangible.

Sun on the water

spreads like a blanket.

Nothing new or exclusive.

Time has no relevance.

We only give names

for efficiency.

To clasp mental hands

and smile at the same

wind in the trees.

Still, I try to memorize

this feeling moment -

Save it like a favorite movie.

To run in that space

between waking and sleep

when I sync to the heartbeat of the world.