summer’s song


sunset on summer eve
the whisper of autumn
far yet nearer today
a dabble of death’s napkin 
at a double chinned-chin
we live to live
and finally die 

waves of exotic grasses 
bend beneath the skies
wiggle and waggle
dance in the naked heat
words sung by a native tongue
nothing left to argue
heads begin to nod
each one agrees





tomorrow’s flower

no warning, no telltale sign
like a flower’s bloom
suddenly it is there

nobody sees
though it’s not too far
nobody listens
as it’s not very loud

the flower didn't live out loud 
its blossoms draped in silence
the flower didn’t live long
brevity, a right of beauty’s passage

it is a gift
a promise of beauty
where there was none

each night, we wait
for tomorrow’s flower
in the hope that another day 
will always come
and the flower
will always bloom
somewhere tomorrow