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.