Chasing the Moon

 The alfalfa’s been cut,

winter rye is coming soon;

Time keeps pace with the seasons,

And I’m out here just chasing the moon.

A New Season of Life

It's called

I do what I want.

Retirement, BaeBae!

Alive Again

I am that Rottweiler Bitch

Whose litter of puppies died

And I will find nine replacements, 

Be it a fuzzy slipper,

A stuffed animal

Or an abandoned baby squirrel 

And I will nurse it back to life

Because every single morning 

I wake up

Alive.

Some may want me to carry 

The flame of eternal love,

An idealistic image of romance,

But let me tell you 

There is no romance in an empty bed,

No comfort in placing ones head

On an imaginary chest

Because every single night

I went to bed

Alone.

Here in this little room

I can see what remains of my life;

I have held it in my hands

And watched it slip away

While I grieved what I had lost.

Lost no longer,

I have been found.

Broken and broken have come together

And for the first time in years

I sleep sound. 

The Grave Robber

Who are you, he once asked.

For fear I’d scare him off,

I did not reply.

I’m your Spirit Animal, Baby.

I’m here to dirty dance you,

Romance you,

To breathe new life into you.

Take that foot out of the coffin

And claw your way back to the living

Cuz it ain’t your time to die.

I’m a night walker,

I’m a grave robber

Digging up the living dead

From where I used to dwell.

I’m gonna rattle your bones,

Linger on the humerus,

And shake the dust off your thighs.

And if you survive the resurrection,

We’re gonna coast, Baby, 

Cuz the grim reaper owes us that.

Who are you, he once asked,

And I demurely smiled.

Becoming Mighty

On second thought ...

YES IT DID!

24 Seasons of Winter

With one dance, one glance,

one kiss,

24 Seasons of Winter

melted away

in 

The Great Thaw.

The Healing

He pressed his body

inside mine

like a preacher

at an old-time, big tent revival

and commanded,

"Be Healed".

The Story

Play me like a guitar

as I read you with my hands
 the way a blind man
reads a book 
written in Braille,

lingering on every word

until I know 

every page

by heart.

The type of book 

where the reader

slowly falls in love

with the main character

and sweetly thinks about him

long after the story ends.

Déjà vu

"Did I know you in a previous life?" he asked.

I replied through a side glance 

and a crooked smile,

"Yes. We were Vikings together,

sailing the stormy seas

way back in the year of

one thousand sixty three".

Waves were not alone

pounding against the stern.

Beneath the dragon-head prow

he would keep me warm.

And on nights the ocean was quiet,

under the sails, 

we made our own storm.

That was last I saw him,

tangled limbs and hair,

a thousand years ago

wrapped in seal skins

without a care.

Until that night he grabbed my hand

and pulled me out to dance.

In shyness and confusion

I could barely give him a glance.

Though my eyes may have deceived me,

in a moment of Déjà vu,

once within his arms

my body said,

"Oh. It's YOU."