Rain Wolf

In a flash of light,
In a thunderous crash,
Alone,
Against the rain's sharp lash;
His teeth a gleaming white,
His fur
A shade like bark
With flecks of night.
A single drop of glittering blood
Upon his tongue,
And on his claws, the sliding mud
From valleys, thickened with the flood.
What cave he came from,
No bird knows,
What mountain, ringed with diamond snows,
What creek he quenched his endless thirst...
Are only known by the grounds he cursed.
Pinnacles crumble, boulders slide;
But his bold black heart may never die.

Dove

Like silks in the air,
Like pods on the breeze,
Our final words
No eye can see.
The things we said,
Or never did
Are but the sun
When day has fled.
The clouds are dead
The hours gone,
I listen for
The notes of dawn.
I miss your heart,
The heart I knew
The dove that took
Its life and flew.

Power of the Star

A beacon of light; it brings one home,
A song perhaps for only some:
The innocent, the sweet, the still;
The patient on the thorny hill.
Pure sun, I know thee from afar,
Thy shining hair, thy gleaming star...
And in thine glow I lie my head,
A flawless, ample, burning bed.

New Year

Within the dim confines of a lost tomorrow,
The heart finds a home to hide its sorrow,
In bright gold lanes traced warmly with light
In songs that still linger from birds in flight.
Footsteps make patterns in snow from the past,
Cold things, and dead things, and things that don't last;
People and places ringed harshly in rain
Dreams that the mind views with crippling disdain.
Present paths twist through the soul like a thread,
Unread, unspoken; by consciences spread,
Lips meant for moving, smiles and frowns,
Rivelets or rivers, mountains or mounds.