Whispers of Lust

Youthful souls emerge

Colors in a jar

My heart does not agree

It breaks at what has been shown

A Bugs Life

Sometimes you’re the bug and other times you’re the windshield

Rolling Smoke

Smoke rolls from Embers

into the light

No Escape

You’ve taken precaution

Bites still penetrate

A coat that shines

Ears twitch at each sound

Nose points up

Smells all around

Replenished

Through the timber

and across the lake

   Haunting loon cries call

ravens begin to echo warn

I want

I want to be deafened by touch

Sensing only running chills

Visually Impaired

“Who is that old man in the mirror?” dad asked as he looked up with a crooked half smile.

Missing you

Deep breaths

Slowly exhale

Savoring what lingers

In the air