The echoes stopped
and only in
dreams do come
from the abyss
dark haunting howls
like wounded animals
waiting for salvation
but in day
they grow quiet
it’s the moon
that always make
the hounds bay
Spring
Having once been
but became something
else almost unknown
I had pooled
into a valley
and there I
fed into others
losing the very
thing that once
I remember was
clear and crisp
and oh so
All
Things never do
themselves do they
there’s always some
string or fuse
that starts pulling
or teasing taunting
I wonder what
and wonder if
and then all
Coin
If a word
was never enough
then what was
emptied I did
coffers of heart
sending gold skyward
scattering I searched
for but never
found that one
simplest of coin
Didn’t
It amazes and
too sometimes amuses
me that when
someone who hasn’t
in many years
in decades even
finds their way
back to me
and yet those
who were nearby
nearest and nearly
dear just couldn’t
or maybe wouldn’t
but definitely didn’t
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 