Yellow Moons (a poem)

be careful, son

don’t delve into

too much mystery

it’ll consume you

pray to yellow moons

inky-black skies

howling wolves

green wilderness

cycles of rebirth

summer turns to autumn

the land sustains us

be careful, son

& brave

(Photo by Izabelle Acheson on Unsplash)

The Eve of the Funeral (a poem)

On the eve of the funeral, there was a knot in my stomach –

his death was so sudden

a Friday night phone call + he’s gone forever

I felt panic, a wave of grief that threatened to demolish me

my sister stepped into the summer night + screamed

a primal shout that began long years of healing.

(Photo by Richard Burlton on Unsplash)

Groans of Thunder (a poem)

Dark clouds gather + block a stifling sun, breaking the heat

of oppressive summer days – we’re in a daze, at a standstill,

shops closed + mask-wearing maniacs stashing cash

under dirty mattresses in case of economic collapse –

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In the Woods (a poem)

It’s been so long since I’ve

walked in these woods,

surrounded by trees

on a humid summer night.

It’s dusk and tree cover provides

shade on the trails, but we still

huff, puff with each mile.

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Cooking with Rachel (a poem)

For Rachel Forth

The summer days are long and there’s still light outside

when we roll the dough and dance in the kitchen while

making stromboli – you lead the way, but teach me too –

you make it like it’s second-nature to you, a true cook,

and I’m your student – all I can make is scrambled eggs.

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What Heaven Looks Like (a poem)

You forget there are places like this:

A quiet bay with still water and a wide expanse,

the sun shining in a cloudless blue sky, and

seagulls calling overhead.

From the sandy shore, you watch the old man

cast a fishing net and the teenagers lounging

with headphones on.

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