Earth’s Unwinding

Friends, a poem from a year ago that seems fitting today.

This is the season of earth’s unwinding – finding
soil’s Sabbath.
You can hear terra firma
exhale
expire
exhausted, she
sleeps and with sleep
comes a dreaming –finally
ease frees earth’s form to reframe:
subliminal luminosity obtains.
The sun lays low and so
bestows on the earth – that I am –
a softer glow
a kind of light that sees shade
not as harbinger of dark dangerous design
but as foreshadows of my resolve:
I will stop. I will pray. I will stay distraction.
I will dare that dying
that is life, that is wealth, that is
repose, reward, renewal.
I will be late Autumn.
I will be November.

To Day; To Night

I slip on the

morning.

Sleep falls from my torso,

cast aside,

another laundering project.

The day fits well:

snug meeting,

loose lingering at

coffee’s break.  Later I take

issue with an unthreading of time:

a paucity of pauses exposes

my weak spot – mid day runs away with tasks,

a bit too tight – but at

night, I will loosen my tie,

and fall into the alluring arms

that strip me of busy as I search in drawer

for clothes of repose:

night’s shirt.