What if what
of everything that
you have has
come to you
but not because
you’ve wanted it
but because you
were bright enough
to be found
just what if
all that you’ve
ever was never
even about you
Day
Dust of
early day
as nights
dark bruise
turns slowly
to blue
then yellow
and gone
windows whisper
good morning
as thoughts
start simmering
If
If I do
it’s only to
share what I’ve
become the things
that I’ve found
and not the
the things forgotten
for those things
no longer make
or matter except
as a natter
of long ago
battles and wars
but maybe the
scars of skirmishes
seen and counted
in dim light
after or before
and then tales
of long ago
told around the
campfire of passion
Mountain
New ivory blanket
lays folded flat
at beds end
patiently awaiting use
chilled feet and
cool legs seek
its warm comfort
in the outside
chilly June morning
mountain coffee time
big enough for
two to cuddle
June
Already the
machine moans
squeaky clean
and soon
to tumble
the kettle
filled begins
to boil
and beep
the snare
of slippers
shuffle across
hardwood floors
and cabinet
doors creak
such are
standard sounds
of early
dawn days
of June
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 