Solstice Stillpoint

This is the stillpoint of solstice:
late June, evening. The milltown river,
with its floating candles flickering
as an orange twilight falls.

In this newly minted summer,
porches commune with their rocking chairs
and sunsets unfurl slowly.

My inventory of the longest day
reveals a stasis of bliss
settling inside my core
like a reservoir
when hope is complete:…

Love in the ’90’s

Today the world is a disco ball
with glitter pyrotechnics
dappling the sunlit road
and all the trees are money trees,
and all the potholes pots of gold.

The earth is strumming its Carlos
Alomar fat bass riffs under the snow
and the cardinals all fight for the limelight
of the sun’s pulsing paisley fractal smile…

The Things Trees Say

Today I forgot I need walls.
I had to park my car
and walk to the post office.
I left my agoraphobia
behind in the hot back seat,
balled up with my sweatshirts
when I grabbed my cane.

Google lied. I thought it was closer.
One more block;
one more block.
My knees parse the distance…

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