The Cold Solstice

Rejoice now the inequality of the day,
For once more we persist toward symmetry.

The moon round and bright will light the way,
As souls ripen to warmth before the yule.

Constellations pulse coldly holding the dark at bay,
While hearty radiance spills from festive chambers.

For this is where we touch; midway,
Then on to where the sunlight will conquer the night.

Seeing November

If I had pastels in shades of grey,
These are the colours I’d give the day.

If I had crayons of the deepest white,
I'd save these all for the moonlit night.

If I had pencils in sepia brown,
Herein this manner I'd forge the town.

If I had paints of watery blue,
I'd sweep the sky from within this hue.

If I had pens in monochrome fill,
It's these I'd wash across every hill.

If I had brushes of satin sheen gold,
I'd stain bleak meadows to reflect its cold.

If I had charcoal in black like pitch,
Their tips I'd sharpen to shade my niche.

Alas it's purely my own mind's eye,
In my head alone do these tinctures lie.

Mona Lisa Smile

Amid the diesel and through the dust,

Between the metal and the rust,

I have yet to discern why,

A certain glimmer caught my eye.

Perhaps it was within a glance,

Or the clash of fate and that of chance,

To cause this sparking of the minds,

That often seeks a bond that binds.

Rumbling gears they shook the ground,

The assault of steel an enormous sound.

Yet there remained a glint of quiet,

Hidden behind the mud and the riot.

Surrounded by such clamour and mess,

There appeared very little to impress.

To unearth this glitter amidst the muck,

Could not be purely borne by luck.

As sunbeams slanted across the mire,

The moments pledged to never tire.

So through it all the twinkle remained,

And the glimpses shy were never feigned.

Alas the season passed unknown,

And the sunlit days we had since flown.

I was struck by a gleam amid the grime,

Yet know full well I have done my time.

From here I choose to always see,

This deep reflection of not just me.

His glowing countenance held no guile,

None... but a Mona Lisa smile.

Waking

Soft breathing
in the early morning darkness.
The animals stir and the house hums
in undertones.
The day's renewed promise
hovers in the corner.
And patiently
we await the dawn.

Mirror

I had a dream
That when I looked into the mirror
Past my shoulder
The impossible was possible.