Weather Songs

The wheels of time turn
each epoch into a new story
and looking out
the sun always finds
some new odds and ends of existence

these blue elastic days
stretch an empty story over the margins
vying for a drunken dream
and a burnt sky looks back
with a worried look
when small talk runs dry

the rain is silent when it comes
its presence felt only in
the softness left behind
and the green sings
a new song of remembered words

how can I possibly not sing along?

Wind

The wind hesitates
As it probes my tired skin
For answers
And tries to decode words
On my lazy sighs

It senses a spark underneath
And wraps me in
Before I can set myself on fire

Her length lends itself to my hands
As I reach out
To sweep stale memories
And brush away the flaky past

She initiates conversations
In a voice that sounds like me
Using thoughts for words
And faces for needs

I hesitate too
To look at what remains
When the dust of the world
Is blown off my skin
And I can no longer hide

Trimmed Roots

Here, where I stand
My toes do not grow roots
Nor do fingers branch out to fondle a stray cloud
Apocalyptic delays
But only a stone's throw away
Beyond that last mile my feet wished to tread
My mind sings in some weird claustrophobic notes
Would reach out, if I could
And cast in stone, these songs
That I sing and strive to forget
My only legacy to Gaia