North Haven in the Sun

On a sunshine day
cracks deepen.
Speaking trees breathe.

An inlet runs smooth
with coastal water;
indigo deep
between granite
space.

Forever tongues collide
against my rocking heart.

Stone pebbles rest
at peace for now,
lying next to a fine toothed
comb of sand;

my brown purse
adrift
til it comes home.

The Island

Sun bleached stones lay soft on the beach.
Rocks span the approach to blue depths;
a chill blue, like the wind which crosses the horizon.
Clouds scatter
as waves crest white
and churn the surface that carries us home.

Across the breadth of ocean
we float in a direction we think we know,
but where we end is never quite where we began.

Wind and blue,
clouds and sun,
and all that vast openness
change us,
and move us in another direction;
​to a home we never knew before.

My Dress

My dress hangs on the wall.
My dress is pressed up against the wall,
all painted and full of grace.
Colors splash along its spine.

If I lie against the wall,
will my dress cover me down to my knees,
or float to the floor for my wedding?

It breathes onto my shoulder;
hovers there with a touch,
a chill.

I lift it off the wall 
and put it on;
arms outstretched,
chin pointed to the night.
My breath floats the
chill out through open lips.

As I give my dress my life,
in turn it saves my own.

Green Mountain

Trees stand on the old man
like whiskers.
His breath whistles
through boulder teeth
cleansing down-slope breezes.

I hear him at night
rumble and moan,
cracking his knuckles.
The air is sharp and cold.

I whisper him secrets;
old songs to remember,
old faces to leave behind.

 Each April again we elope;
traveling through bird song
and greening trees.

Slowly my life ripens,
resting next to his rough shoulder,
napping in the sun
like an old brown dog.