Through the leaves and
trees – The cool full
moon does not shine on me
as I sit or maybe stand
by a faltering fire pit
A darkening bed of coals
grown old and cold as the
late September night
and the coals also
do not shine on
Through the leaves and
trees – the old and cold
darkening coals do not shine on
me as I stand or maybe
sit, back turned to fire pit
that is full like the cool moon


the soft lick of breeze
on sun slapped cheek
like the touch of down
upon cold bared skin
Or like slivered sun
barely breaking dark
though closed blinds
with chance of change
or the fast fleeting flash
into something greater
something that is more

Feeling Conspicous

Pulling into the icy black top parking lot, I worked to stifle the irritating little tickle that I had the place wrong. Jabbing down that feeling that I had somehow looked it up incorrectly, or even confused the date, I pulled to a stop in the middle front row of park spaces.   I felt this space didn’t draw undue attention to a new car in the parking lot, and didn’t scream, “I am the first here!!!”  Not sure why, but that seemed important.

Besides mine, there were only two other cars around, parked at near opposite ends of the lot. They were empty, or at least appeared to be so. The scene was something out of some old noir film – one where two cars sat lonely in a dark parking lot late at night. Soon the camera would pan to a lone woman making her way to one of the cars, and camera pulls out to reveal the lights coming on the other just as she is reaching for her keys – suggesting her complete unawareness at being watched.

In a way I felt like that woman – the feeling of being watched itching up my back. Sitting in my parked car, I tried to be invisible in my indecision as to what to do now, looking around to see if I was being watched – though knowing no one cared enough to watch me even if there was someone there. Looking at the dashboard clock, it glowed a blue-green 6:49 at me – there were 11 minutes yet.

Shouldn’t there be people here already? The question rattled around in my head as I fidgeted my leg up and down, causing the car shake a little. It was an old car with bad suspension. My wife had the better of the vehicles with her tonight at class. I got stuck with the beater, which I always do. I didn’t mind so much.

Blue-green numbers jumped to 6:50. My leg, it seemed, bounced harder with my gathering inablity to take decisive action – either I was going to get out of the car and walk up there, or I was going to turn tail and head home. As my leg and mind bounced, the cold began to seep through the bad seals on the doors and the inside windows began fogging up. I knew if I went inside, by time I got out, I’d have to scrape the inside of my windows before I could leave. I hated scraping the inside of my windows, it always became a whole production.

  • Fire up the car
  • Rev engine, denying the fact that scraping would be far faster.
  • Break down and pull out a credit card
  • Scrape the reachable portions of the interior windows with the credit card
  • Drive home while peering through the scraped places

Not wanting that do deal with a hassle like that; I made up my mind, saying to myself, “Fuck it! I might as well see if this is it.”

The bouncing had finally catapulted me to action and I grabbed my keys from the ignition and my phone from the passenger seat and got out of the car – taking note of the wet bite of the cold on my face. I cringed at the creak of cold hinges of my car door, as I pushed it closed. The sound echoed off the building and only intensified my feeling of there being unseen eyes upon me. As the car door thunked shut, I stood beside my car considering my next problem — which door to go in.

The Trail — A Poem about Enjoying Late Fall Nature

Walking in waist to shoulder
Frost crowned grass standing
Silent, still, and stiff
the first to thaw and dry
in the weak late year sun
A forest within the forest
On a frozen November morning

Hard rutted truck tracks,
Tread design clearly visible
Like dinosaur footprints
Serve as finely fossilized
records Of slick rain soaked
early fall firewood collection
In solid loam of rocky clay

Raspberry red arch bridges
hang white leafed, berryless
between islands of brown
fronds from large ostrich ferns
contrasted against the last green
grasses that refuse to go dormant
denying the approach of winter.

A large group of beastly birds
roost in a leaveless cottonwood
raise a ruckus as I approach
and cast doubt who is more alarmed
as my heart catches in throat
they wing down and away from me
gobbling loud in the cold quiet.

Trees awaken and start popping
warming long night numbed limbs
as squirrels begin chattering
and checking hidden caches quickly
furtively eyeing me walking past
sizing me up a scaveneger or predator
preying upon thier quiet natural lives.


Not sure about the ending on this one….I feel like it seems rushed. It was my intention to just describe the scene…and let you get what you can from it…then I thought maybe I should add some ‘zinger’ at the end…not sure I like doing zingers. I kind of like writing poems that just leave a moment in someone’s mind…an image, thought, feeling, what-have-you…nothing deep or heady, other than what you come up with yourself as the reader — a sort of impressionist poetry if you will.

So you all might see a re-write of this after the A to Z Challenge is done…:)


Cold — A Poem to Read in August

Breath hard and heavy,
stumbling still sleepy,
along old overgrown road,
cutting through dark woods,
tripping over logs long rotten,
toward a night hidden stand
lashed in marraige to old oak.
The November morning grey
seeps into pre-dawn gloom
while sitting in the soft
slow sway of my metal perch
as shadow like trees stand
against sharp freezing air
Frost tugs at tips of toes
damp in booted thick socks
nape of neck breeze tickled
down the back chilling deep
to spite my thermal shirt
Fingers pulled into palms
tips tight tucked away
against early winter’s
urgent and constant cold.


I thought I should add the C is for… to the blog title as that is how I am seeing the others doing it for the A to Z Challenge.  I normal don’t struggle much to write shorter poems, but this one I struggled with (for some reason).  I am finding it difficult to write a poem based on a letter each day, so I am guessing this excerize is truly good for me.

Thanks for reading,