On The Wall

framed
a mug shot 
of my bucket list 
fragment of my dreams 

Thunderstorm

thunderstorm-
the sound of rain 
on the sea 
foghorn lights up 
tides curve the 
lighthouse path 

rain swings over earth 
going into the soil 
nourishing, awakening 
to push touch roots to blossom 
taking and making into creation 

a silver fountain of 
vanilla constellations 
waltz out of sight 

I dream in a rainy sky.

On The Cutting Board

Said the cutting board to the knife 
When you do your chop chop 
All the veggies go drop drop
Cut up to be curried
In no way hurried 
Steamed, stir fried 
Pickled or dried 
All nutrients supplied
On farmers relied 
When the sky opened up cried 
The soil that crumbled n died 
lived and freshened and happily sighed 

When the veggies went under the knife 
to be skinned and chopped 
they became a gourmet delight 
making digestion alright. 

5/7/22

trying to write a poem 
I can’t write;
loneliness settles on my words