Category: Poetry

Didn’t We Fly

didn’t we fly
that chill autumn day
escaped from apple picking
to smoke secret cigarettes in the woods
on a rough dirt road to nowhere

when a half dozen boys
came on rumbling bikes
asked if we wanted
to go for a ride

we should have known better
and run for our lives
but we grinned at each other
and got on behind

and didn’t we fly

didn’t we fly
with the wind in our hair
and the sky whirling by
trailing shrieking laughter

my cheek pressed against
his warm farm boy back
arms holding tight
like I was in love
maybe just for that moment I was

didn’t we fly

didn’t we fly
that chill autumn day
now I’m older and wiser
and you’ve gone away
but I will always remember you
and that perfectly dangerous
beautiful day

didn’t we fly?

 

 

For Dawn Davis

Capture

(A little end of summer poem.)

On the last day of vacation,
sunburned and windswept,
I rushed down to the beach
with an empty bottle
to capture a piece of sea.

I crammed sand and tiny shells
through the opening,
filled the empty space with seawater,
hoping as we drove away
when I missed this place
I could open it,
return to that
delirious infinity,
the rush of light
sound and movement
more wonderful
than anything I’d ever seen.

Of course it was a lost cause:
Grand things diminish
in confined spaces,
both children and the sea.

Engines

Long after the train passed
the rails still hummed.
At night in the quiet
you could hear them
softly buzzing.

Maybe this
is what ghosts are:
Engines vibrating
along paths
once familiar.
No unfinished business
or messages
for left behind
loved ones.
Only faint fading evidence
someone came through
before continuing
their journey.