SpearPoint Publications

When the words don’t come 

Do we sound an alarm? 

Has vocabulary ceased, has this well gone dry? 

If word fall is likened to raindrops… 

And storms refuse to storm 

Is this any concern at all? 

Or a hiccup lapse…

“Let’s dare ‘em to…wake-up with the Sun 

Race us just for fun 

Run up old Doolittle hill and right back down” 

“Wait, with longer legs than ours 

They’ll beat us to the top!” 

“No Biggie! 

We’ll lose ‘em in the…

Yesterday’s Sun burned steadfastly hot 

Why not, it’s got a job to do 

Dissolving clouds invite more heat in 

Let Summer come tan us again 

Bring back those transistor radios 

Beach bum days when everyone shows 

Coppertone skin, frisbee grins…

One male Goldfinch uncharacteristically sits solo, atop a bare branch 

His cry bordering shrill, minor keyed, mournful… yet clear 

Will he attract a mate to be or summon back lost parents? 

Off a dust-kicker country lane, leafing grapevines somehow invite…

A waning crescent Moon escapes 

Untethered pointy sideways smile 

With miles, of miles, of miles to run 

Footless as its…forever been 

 A lit balloon dots spatial atmosphere 

Naked eyes may spot this one rise 

Before the Summer Sun arrives 

As…

“We should fix the fence this Spring 

When the snowmelt disappears 

And with it calm our worried fears, My Boy! 

Remember that it’s up to us 

To make this handy bit of fuss 

Before the wild days ----- of Summer…

Mister Sun wore a wetsuit of oversized gray 

Assuming Fridays are causal dress 

Some say… he’s above it, that’s all 

Just waiting for raindrops to fall 

Below on Earth One he looks so subdued 

Confusing, amusing, faithlessly rude 

Taunting and…

And the Farmer said…   

“Ya know, the old Strawberry Moon shows its ripe face in June 

While the stars decorate the nights sky 

It’s a two-view cosmic happening, like having pie and eating it too 

You may call me a…

We traveled out a dirt rut road 

Amid throws of golden hour 

September woods rapt a glow 

Showing off this Sunday evenings blend 

Where nature shares her fertile luscious goods 

Along a winding half a mile drive 

Every turn another…

Overhead, a giant comforter rests snugly 

You’ve no doubt guessed 

It’s sporting several shades of gray… 

And it’s okay, it’s full of rain - ready to empty 

As near as I can tell - all is well and that’s swell 

…

A toy, a tool, a weapon 

Begins one hearty living thing 

Crackling fire mind ideas 

Drawing wet sand sketches 

Earn bucks by the score 

Fiddle, whittle something 

Grow your very own 

Help splint a broken leg 

Inspect, explore… seek reason 

…

Morning waits on no one kid 

You must learn to muster you - 

Out of that - snoozers bed 

For the Sun’s a comin’ 

Sure, as the skyline signifies so 

And take your shadow when you go 

May thickets draw…