I found this poem, circa 1986, maybe 1987. Probably in February because there was still snow on the ground on that morning. There was the promise of spring flowers, either on the ground or in my heart…
I always liked the fortress best.
You can see the town from the guard’s post.
Hills. Birds. Lots of farmers’ fields
and snow — or flowers,
depending on the time of year.
We’d listen to the silence.
Outdoors — at the top of the hill.
And I’d slip to the edge with my lover
to dream and be safe
all the time,
not just when we’d kiss.
Then I found this one, and well, it’s about the moonlight reflecting on a lake and it made me smile in light of a recent conversation with a friend. I think I wrote an awful lot about the moon….
Midnight’s silver glow
lends a gentle calm to the lake.
The water’s surface,
already smooth as an oil slick,
slippery and impervious in the silence,
as some fish or other occupant
creates ripples in the glass
while coursing through
The calm returns slowly, rhythmically,
until it is once more a mirror for the moon.