WILD ABANDON
Our
hearts sing us a song,
one
of concentrated beauty,
one
of compassionate voice,
one
that has shaken us
to
the core of dreams
that
entrap us in the past.
Our
rainbow of all stripes
is
glorious and transportive,
but
it is also sadly fleeting.
Excited
and scared, we
row
boats of mistletoe
across
a choppy inlet
as
we seek to keep
the
peace between compass
and
instruction manual.
Now
that we have proof
of
our salvation, let’s dance
wildly
on the foggy coast.
What
else is drifting away
from
us besides the moon?
Perhaps
one lone sailboat,
wrapped in fog, free at last!
THE CULTIVATOR
Always on the perimeter of grass
I
grow forms of me that include
green
crabs and sky signals—
mine
to incapacitate, shadows and all.
This
is where isolation and my life
go
hand in hand. And the relationships
I
make along the way to the slopes
of
sleep save me from the grave.
THE NEW GUARD
What
they said
to
the fall creek
flowing
past leaves
beneath
a fragile peace
was
love personified.
And
they danced
by
the light
of
the moon, the moon,
the
moon they wanted
to
be a part of.
Why
did they do it?
Their
path through
the
eyes of time
saved
their lives,
moving
like pawns
on
the chess board
of
change. They felt
so
full of spirit that
they
lost white trees
prized
by all,
they
lost weeks
of
winter to the islands.
It
cost them dearly.
Forging
their way
through
the smoke
of
the old guard,
they
left rainbow lights
on
fishing piers,
they
left pots
for
sugary treats
on
the blustery coast
of
their own lives.
Why
did they swing
thousands
of daffodils
in
their blistered hands?
Because
they saw
Cliff
Saunders is the author of several poetry chapbooks, including Mapping the
Asphalt Meadows (Slipstream Publications) and The Persistence of Desire (Kindred
Spirit Press). His poems have appeared recently in The Rockford Review,
Exacting Clam, Concision Poetry Journal, ArLiJo, Beltway Poetry
Quarterly, and The Evening Universe.
I have always enjoyed your writing and I am glad to see that you are still at it!
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