By Tom Squitieri
Not Just Yet
At morning the snow eludes The joy of rebirth the wakeup of beauty promised instead the cold darts Of water pellets Hit the deck Warfare on our anticipation Beauty chased away Cocoon endangered Cold rain does not Hug tree branches with beauty Permit fast dashes for snow angels Nor trigger mirth for wanting, sloping Hillsides so Eager to bask in Brigadoon Laughter of children Yet a solitary bird Sings loud and determined Leading the way To chase the cold usher in blessing Its music is Beauty to us it scolds the sky insists it correct itself Soon it will
Last Day, New Hope
You choose the color And it blossoms from the same Shade that part of you proclaims You choose nature Because it embraces your Lushness as if Earth’s bounty Do not fade from us In photo or beauty Spread and hold nature As natural as the flora The surround you and smiles That loves you as truly as A select few Urging you to come fully To the caress of trueness The pink of eagerness The eagerness of oneness
Just a Few Butterflies
It is still the right dusk, the soft sounds of reality The harsh human sounds are tired and faint, and far away Wisely, I sit and wait. No fireflies arrive. It is still their stage, though, And I need to see them again Right now It is how dusk tells you the real time If I see the butterflies during the day, I smile The plantings make them feel welcome and they come With their freedom and wisdom Makes me laugh as I think For no logical reason, the cliche of “What would you tell your younger self?” And you realize you cannot Just as dawn is a silent cousin to dusk So too is the wisdom we acquire Through our days fleeting for the next moments leaving our memory for good Only a morning rain can visibly nourish through the day While the sun, the arbitrator of dusk and dawn, silently teaches to our blindness. The Good Rain does come and we flow fully into each other with each other. the wind moves your covering, my eyes unfasten the rest, you open your eyes to what you have longed for, and now it is here. The derecho of me, all just for you. I have stopped, to look fully at you and smile. like hot tasty coffee consumed, your warmth expanding throughout me the morning says it will remain dark longer, to permit my words and photos to shine for you, just you, in primacy Stretch the legs to the sun, ideally on the sand There is no better place Just a few butterflies, in this summer of tomorrow Before the fall of harkening The cold to come No fireflies now Once again, too late Only the sparks of that knowledge that cannot be passed back in time And could our younger self’s ears Even hear what we say Or would the pitch be in an Unknown language or frequency? The evening sky mirrored the hope of morning, tasked by the ferocity of the pride of a setting sun, softened by the love of the message it was offering Tonight, I saw that message it was a blue in the sky I had never seen before heralded by the other colors framed, soft in their hands Extending to me The last roundup It is time to walk to that cloud
A whisper away You are Here for a bit Then silent For me Leaving an Alphabet of thoughts Retreats Boldness Confusions I whisper again Through My Mind To yours And it does Connect Sometimes I whisper with words In the quiet As I try to see In a world Where full darkness is still Fair Yet fullness of heart Ready How the years Come back To laugh and remind Taunt To hear in return Truth And charity So the whisper words Can be sanctuary smiles Stillness holds hands With the whisper For that is what the elusive Day can only offer. I saw her once again So I know she is real Still, eyes remain gauze I cannot find you clearly And wonder if I ever will For my Canon in R.