THE BLUSH OF SPRING

Her cheeks flush;
the crimson spreading
to her heart
and her lips.
A young man’s fancy turns with
the blush of her cheek.

TAKING FLIGHT

Poems

are kites.

We wait for the wind 

to be right and delight to bring 

them out to fly and display, and we 

play like children, releasing our words into
the air. Sometimes they struggle to lift off the ground,
and we run dragging them behind us. Stopping 

and starting until the wind shifts and it catches. 

It stretches our muse like a taut string,
a connection from our common 

grounding. High and higher 

still, bounding; seeking
altitudes that defy 

logic, and find-

ing attitudes

that mimic 

yours.
An 

                                                                                 expres-
                                                                                          sion, 

                                                                                 airborne 

                                                                             and

                                                                          soaring.
                                                                                Bringing 

                                                                                        delight to 

                                                                                                  others 

                                                                                                          who
                                                                                                       find 

                                                                                                  kite 

                                                                                             flight 

                                                                                      fascin-

                                                                                 ating.
                                                                        Release 

                                                                           your 

                                                                                words 

                                                                                        into the 

                                                                                           wind.
                                                                                   Poems

                                                                           are kites.

CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

Blinking, twinkling.
Red, yellow, blue.
Green and white,
all night, bright.
Beacons of light
in a mid-December
snowfall. Offering
a brilliance not seen
since early fall.
Silently accenting
vignettes of serenity.
A Christmas amenity
strung and hung,
eclectic and electric.
Blinking, twinkling.
Red, yellow, blue.
Green and white,
all night, bright.
Christmas lights.