Ablutions

Ablutions

Every morning, a couple of hours after dawn

a wispy yellow butterfly

leaves her sanctuary of tall dry grass and discarded afterthoughts

to sit for a moment

on moist Pahala black sand

polished by the Pacific Ocean’s insistent caresses

and seasoned with salt as old as time.

She performs this daily ritual

just because.

Sunday Serendipity

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Last Sunday morning
I had so many plans

a once a week breakfast
of bacon, biscuits, casaba melon, strong coffee
followed by emails and papers checks to be mailed
first thing Monday at the local post office
and mindless dusting of shelves and coffee tables
plus a perfunctory vacuum of hallways well-traveled.

Then a friend dropped by
with unexpected gifts

Her knotted macramé cradling a spider
potted in earth enriched by organic sacrifices
plus palaver on past lives, earth, herbs and such
and we walked amongst tomatoes and basil
while my dogs sidled and shadowed her,
eager for a mere glance, a pat, an embrace

Communal offerings
with a Sabbath heart

If you promise *

Ohio Christmas

If I come to the window one last time
will you promise to remember me as I was in the spring
when my whispers quickened your heart
and you yearned for my hair across your pillow?

I shall grant you one last glance,
but only if you see me as the lover
you so foolishly abandoned.

 *  In December 2012, a fellow blogger (sethsnap.com) invited us to submit poems on photographs he posted.  This was my contribution.  My original title was “House.”  His photography is quite good.  You will enjoy visiting his site.