Angel Wing Compost Pile

I should love to feel a cloud,

It’s wispy strands

Coiling around my hands

And swirling into my frozen words

It would be nice to hear a cloud,

For they whisper silence into the atmosphere

And bond together when it’s gray

To share whispered secrets of blue days

They are of the ocean and the air

To block the scorching sun,

Whose rays pierce the fluff

To taste a cloud would be a joy

Of sugar-filled wonders

And cold, refreshing stuff

The sky is water’s heaven,

and in-between elements

But these clouds prefer to think of themselves

As an angel wing compost pile


The moon is hidden up in its little nest

Half-noticed in the blue sky

The sun goes down behind the hills for nighttime,

But the moon stays put to watch the day pass by

It is a white shadow,

A visible secret,

A curious little sibling

Soft and pale it sits in its perch and smiles

How often it is overlooked, though it is closest to us

But a feather from the mighty wing

Blue Moon

Blue for sadness, that Summer has left

and her whispers reach out to us, to tell us that she has gone,

gone to an unreachable place

Blue for Icy Wind that will move in and bite and snap at your heels

Blue for a silent happiness that Autumn has arrived,

that we are no longer in Summer’s trance

Blue moon as Mother Nature’s gift for this season shift

This Day Whispers Summer…

this day whispers summer

in lots of little ways…

like how the butterfly flits from

flower to flower

and a warm morning sun

heats the trampoline

The fresh smell of cut grass

comes sharply

the air is sticky with laziness

and a hint of wonder

Today whispers summer

quietly, in all the little ways….