memories come flooding back . . .
a squall blowing in
across the water,
berries in the hay,
sunsets through a plate glass window
I remember stories
around the kitchen table . . .
kids playing Chinese checkers,
eating popcorn
and laughing at silly things
beside the fire
and fluorescent stones
we chanted hymns
studied myths
and pleaded for our souls
the world was our adventure
the lightness and the dark . . .
castles by the seashore
cast their shadows down the streets
we found to wander
those bygone trails
beyond the garden
finally brought me here to stand
outside your door
tonight
in moonlit poems
these runes unfold
a menagerie of whispers . . .
into your ears a song
this mockingbird is singing
Atlas Poetica 36
