These Wings 

 These wings no longer serve to fly,
 yet still they yearn to make the try.
 They beat the air with hopeful pain,
 To lift this lost soul up again.

 With strength much less than days of youth, 
 Though makes attempt, denies the truth.
 We think we rise, we almost smile,
 If only for a little while.

 Oh deep within our wiser times
 We know the truth, we see the signs.
 And try to teach our striving will,
 There comes a time, we must sit still.
 

  
	   
	     Fairy Dance


 Neath pallid moon and hand of doom
 the fairy creatures play.
 Their world is slipping from their grasp, 
 it lessens day by day.
 What chance have creatures made of dreams 
 ‘gainst creatures made of clay?

 And those who dwell in elven dales
 may draw eternal breath.
 Secure in never ending youth
 and ever cycling myth.
 But ageless lives may falter fail
 ‘gainst mortals courting death.

 With clever rhyme and silver twine,
 to weave a splendid spell.
 Elves dream their dreams of Lorien
 within it’s hidden vale.
 But where’s the strength in fairy dreams
 ‘gainst those who dream of Hell?

 

	   
	  Of Survival This Time

            

 I awoke again in the dark
 And the sweat was icy cold, clinging
 The sheets to my body like tiger-stripe
 Greens and blacks of that other life.
 And the ceiling fan played in cadence
 to the arrival of the locust shapes
 on the LZ of the dream.
 Of survival.
 This time.

 You lay beside me, sleeping, still,
 As I listened to the pounding of my heart
 And the rhythm of your breath,
 Trying to match the violence of the one
 With the peace of the other.
 I envied you such easy slumber
 Yet I would not trade
 Or burden you
 Not ever.

 The moonlight shattered on the lake
 by the house, painting the night with somber
 colors and feeding life to shadows.
 I lay there rabbit-tense, staring out the window,
 Remembering how once shadows meant
 Death. I feared them before,
 Both as a child
 And a man
 Still do.

 You turned to me, half-asleep, sensing
 In that gentle way which humbles me in love.
 Knowing I had waked and wondering,
 But never asking, what I swore I would
 Never share. The memories are burned
 within my mind. Forever.
 Yet I do not share
 With you
 Not this.

 So I hold you close and hide again
 Within the safety of your good love
 And the night will pass, as others pass
 And that distant war in that other time
 Will fade like spent flares and tracers.
 I smile at you my hope
 And think again
 Of survival
 This time

 

  
	   
	The Mystery of  Glass.

     

 Upon my window ledge a bird
 we watched the morning pass.
 And all that stood between us was
 The mystery of glass.

 From where are you, I wondered then
 Though never voiced aloud.
 As he and friends took o’er my yard
 A living  pepper cloud.

 Which swirled and twisted on the air
 And settled in the trees. 
 Yet he broke off and left the crowd
 A single pepper sneeze. 

 A solitary soul, well met,
 I gave a coffee toast,
 Somewhat like me, I think you are
 A single in a host.

 And do the others of your flock
 Think less of you, my friend?
 Do birds, like people, look askance
 At those who don’t fit in?

 He cocked his head, regarding me
 (I almost say askance).
 Two individuals of our kind,
 And meeting here by chance.

 Yet even if of kindred souls,
 Still separate are we.
 And this brief sharing on the sill
 Is all there’ll ever be.

 The flock, like smoke into the air,
 Did suddenly arise.
 And one last time before he joined
 He looked me in the eyes.

 As if to say, goodbye my friend,
 And let this moment pass.
 There’s more devides us, sad to say
 Than mystery of glass