Muse

Sanctuary 

Salvation 

Approaching sleep I ponder these

Lovely words popping into my head 

Beauty in silence and spaces…

So how old do you have to be

Before you can be 

Just a little crazy

And no one will notice, 

Except he notices

He does, and 

Imagines what he

No longer sees

Except he 

Does

What he thinks he sees,

Himself, is

What I think I see in 

Myself. 

Now here is a deep irony

Of confession: 

A few days ago these words were 

Gifted to me,

“I thought you were beautiful,” and 

In that moment of connection 

We were remembering a rafting trip

We took together on the Cheat

Friends, then

And in the long sighing 

Of decades lost not knowing 

That and 

Turning to the solace of 

I’d rather have what might have been

Than what was, 

I’m not sure what to do

Light Blue

 Some major contentment 

Around me now

Gazing south, 

Near west, 

Up the road and across

The plain fields, 

The Plains 

Going to starch 

Winter wheat sown 

A light here and there

When they’ve gone home,

I fiddle with ours

Our lights of course,

But lights across the dark landscape 

Enough to 

Spark and flicker toward 

The grazing forest, 

Bobby’s farmlands,

Rural landscape nestled into

The curves of our long lakes

Small clusters of stars and diamonds, skies of 

Families, maybe

Gone in the centuries, 

Lifting souls

Mine and theirs 

Up toward the

Hector Backbone, 

Floating on lake dreams or

Settling maybe and 

Breathing here and

Seeking balance, I 

Sigh into 

Sighing into 

Sigh into this night.