Low slung sun
Briefly shaded by
Clouds casts golden
Gilt on the
Bushy tops of
Tall trees like
Shave cream on
My father’s brush
Lathered and waiting
To moisten low
Clouds that hang
Like a five
A.m. shadow while
Daisies yawn and
Stretch slowly opening
Like Chinese fans
This quiet morn
Here in Charlotte
And yet there
I said it
Not the fearful
Three words that
Are pre mature
And often lobbed
As blissful thinking
No this word
Means something more
It transcends one
Into something more
Than two it’s
A conjunction of
Sorts it’s us
And there I
Found you in
The forest glen
Standing tall majestic
Tree limbs spread
Like many arms
Cut you down
I did and
Made you mine
Decorated you with
Memories and small
Star like lights
Sang to you
Surrounded you with
Gifts tied in
Pretty colors and
Then after the
Season I undressed
You and left
You curbside why
Do I waste
Such beauty on
My own folly
The day starts
Sleepy and dull
Like tarnished teapots
Put to boil
Promising heat and
Tea colorless like
Sleep masks the
Greens fade and
Blend like watercolors
Everything is quiet
Even the colors
Drowsy morning here
The sky growls
As cloud like
Planes fly low
Overhead blemishing low
Sun in shadow
Cars buzz by
Like busy ants
Hurried by the
Days end as
Children like little
Raccoons bed down
In downy burrows
Evening in Charlotte
