forgotten a lone tree blooming behind the old house the one on the hill the house is abandoned a dire event ran out its occupants made re-sale impossible the sky above remains blue when the wind chases the clouds off to the west down into the vale  the sun un-shielded shines and blares the shadows within the house remain unreachable uninhabited and ill-lit the tree searches air with limb, soil with root searching, searching blooms lure bird and bee oglers and botanists leaf and petal rustle in the breeze a siren’s call whispered and scented won’t someone something, please join me behind the house on the hill stay awhile  # Dark Doorway 


first snow fall a crinkled oak leaf a dark doorway to next April's skies  # False Skin  Façade, false skin, an illusion An invisible blanket No warmth, only delusion Weighted upon your shoulders Yoked about your throat, façade— More millstone than sheltering cloak So take hold Go on now; reach deep within Peel back the deceptive dermis It only feels like skin Grit your teeth at the pity Sharpness dulled by soft truth Oh-so-sweet, vulnerability Shed the brittle shell Bare your soul, scars, and sinew Be brave; the blood, the shame Washed away with a tear … Okay, maybe two