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Late Summer (Poem)
This is a time of abeyance,
A lacuna before the coming of fall.
The air shimmers with heat
And the low buzz of insects.
Rainfall offers little respite,
Only plangent noise.
How not to repine
And search for a proem
In cooler nights and darkening days?
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Early Morning (Poem)
Early morning, a liminal time,
When the tenebrific skies seem poised
On some obscure threshold.
The air is quiet;
No birds yet sing to herald the day;
No wind or rain disturbs the transitory stillness.
The moment awaits any assignation of meaning.
For a brief few breaths,
The world is simply as it is.
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The Return (Poem)
My grey-cloaked companion has returned,
Their absence but a brief hiatus.
They have brought the usual accoutrements:
Worsening fatigue and malaise; a restless mind; heightened bodily aches;
And, of course, emotional pain.
I dared not think they would not be back
At some point in time.
But I had hoped to enjoy life a bit longer.
Change is the nature of things, though,
So I will endeavor to face this with equanimity
And continue on my path.
