By: EarlB, 12:39 AM GMT on June 01, 2015

You might never forget
the night you drove back to your
childhood home:
In the hurry, in the worry and with the
sizzle of the early-winter sleet
on the windshield.

Then there was the time
I was seen
standing, smiling, in the city,
listening to the summer sizzle
of tires unzipping shallow

The sss-sizzle that is,
is nothing to that of what was.
"Is", is a rarity,

The River We Are

By: EarlB, 1:23 AM GMT on May 18, 2015

High above in a darkened glen,
tips of ferns, tips of mosses
comb moisture from the air
and point it toward the earth,
the welcoming, ever-thirsty earth.

The earth swallows every drop
gulp after gulp, until
trickle becomes roar,
roar, river.

River enough it is
to cut it's way through hills
and fields, the weight of
energy pulling water to water,
river to sea.

Updated: 1:25 AM GMT on May 18, 2015

Our Seasons

By: EarlB, 9:31 PM GMT on May 02, 2015

Unimaginable, for me:
a year without the harsh changes
of seasons, the cold, the heat,
the brown the green,
a time to sow,
a time to reap.

Unimaginable, too:
a year-long season with the glossy
leaves, the on-fire blossoms;
Allamanda, Santan, Caryota,

I know six months of life then death,
You know life forever.

In the Spring

By: EarlB, 2:08 AM GMT on April 22, 2015

for the Spring sip
of nearly forgotten perfumes,
barely remembered colors.

after Winter's dry grip
on the nose and eye,
gray just isn't enough.

by the flood of everything
that this season supplies:

It Is Spring

By: EarlB, 2:16 AM GMT on April 07, 2015

It is the explosion
that no one ever hears,
the concussion
that rattles the foundation
of anyone strong enough to
survive it.

It is the bleeding of maple flowers,
their reddening of gray skeletons,
it is the eruption of footfall flowers
from the cold, dark earth,
it is the mayhem of flight,
of birds, of insects, of swirling seeds,

It is Spring.

Updated: 11:19 AM GMT on April 07, 2015

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