Autumn is Chocolate and Freedom


The leaves crunch under my feet,

orange brown flames that lick at my toes

and melt into my mouth.

The chocolate easing into my reality

drowning out forgiven history

Each step, each bite building a monument

that soars on the chill autumn breeze

a castle in the clouds but real.

I swallow this feeling whole and pause

the hole now filled while wholly unaware

by kind gestures that transcend miles

and discover depths before unknown.

The leaves are dancing before my eyes

earthy fairies released to bless the air

with glints of their red, brown, orange and yellow wings,

transcendent in their sacrifice

like the gales of laughter

and bubbles of joy that from me rise

each iridescent color a perfect marvel

I stand alone in the dusky wood,

framed by a timeless sunset

older than time and beyond forever

but younger than a newborn memory.

I watch the butterfly leaves dance death

rejoice life and make parting sacred

I take another bite and swallow the moment

and then I dance because pain is precious

made perfectly poignant by pity personified.

The moment, a canvas

and pain the brush, the brush

in the hand of an artist

who kills the sun and bleeds it

smearing the sky with its sacrifice

the fiery orange, pale pink gold and royal purple

of faded glory illuminate the sky

to offset the darkness within

and without as I dance alone

each step a history, a memory

eating the moment and tasting in my mouth

chocolate and freedom.


Dedicated to my friend Granny Lica


The Silver Wind


The leaf shivers in the silver wind

the life green color swimming through the breeze

weeping branches swaying lightly

and bowing softly as they whisper into the silence

the stream of air is thoughtful and slow

taking as it passes only the deepest secrets 

as the trees rustle sing them from the depths

a silent whisper of promise that echoes

and resounds from the roots of life and birth of potential

pregnant with secrets so potent the air is heavy

but also light as a feather of curiosity

dancing and flitting from branch to flower

to root to revive a dead brown leaf and teach it to dance

it is a laughing wind that knows enough

to know not to take anything too seriously

it smells of wisdom, birth and apple cinnamon

scent stolen from an unsuspecting girl

a bright wind, invisible silver in the midday sun

it murmurs and giggles and steals voices to tell stories

as it dances with the trees and sings with the leaves

and then leaves to steal more secret scents

but before it goes it circles the tree and whispers clearly

Be Free 



What’s a memory but a moment immortalized in the moonlit mind of a midnight dreamer,
A gem of golden gladness gloriously displayed
Or perhaps a moment of madness mirshed with misery
That stands tall torturous in ones mind as solid and immutable as a diamond by stress formed
But is a memory a gem to be held polished and admired or a deadly shard with which to cut oneself
Is it so solid and immutable?
Or rather is it simply a bubble of iridescence capturing a fleeting moment of sun and reflecting a million rainbows?
Each glance back casting the brilliance of experience upon the fragile moment and seeing the subtle nuance of the bubble sounds dancing in the winds of time
A memory moment so fragile and mutable that the experience of seeing it changes it and the rainbows dance to a different tune.
So fragile that we grasp it, or we try, our desire to know, invisible hands grasping at that moment until they have…then it is gone forever
A burst of air gone and the moment the kiss the words gone forever.
As a bubble bursts and leaves behind air so the moment leaves behind an aching emptiness
Or is memory a river, rapidly running rampart, it’s riotous rage ripping the bank and rising to the present
The inundation seeping through everything and overwhelming now and sweeping everything to the past
Or maybe a mountain, an obstacle obstructing openness and overshadowing opportunities opening up
or maybe, maybe the past is a mystery madly made magnificent or maybe a mirror