Empty Swing

Motionless
it waits
anticipatory
for memory-boy
soaring skyward
fixed now in amber-time

he's gone
flown away
launched from highest arc
towards California dreams
leaving us to push
his Peter-Pan shadow.

Sages of Rockport

Rows and rows of stories
laconically writ
as beginnings and ends

stone tablets presiding
over layers of time
inlaid with love and pain

nestled closely to others
perhaps standoffish
when once upon their lives

joys long forgotten
troubles overcome
merry voices stilled

now silent choir of whisperers
'breathe deeply, prithee
of this sweet, seaside air.'

Butterfly House

Iridescence reigns
along scalloped paths
of flutter-by designs

painted ladies
blue morphos
among flamboyant peers

assembled inside
behind closed doors
a splendid garden

tucked away
from highway view
as meditative space

invisible threads
lead to flying dots
in a maze of thoughts

unraveling self
simplifying life
as mindful exercise

transposable spirits
caged, commingling
on another plane.