August Afternoon

August afternoon
They say it will get hotter
For the next few days

He takes his sunglasses with him;
The parking lot has no shade

The local grocer,
Apples under the awning,
With grapes and peaches

Some bees looking for flowers
Hover over the sweetness

Groupies stampeding
As the stage door bursts open,
And paparazzi

Sorting all her appointments
On her brand new palm pilot

The bus boy gathers
The cafe patrons' dishes
And the meager tips

"Fall is my favourtie season,"
She informs her companion

Under the full moon
Lovers talk of where they'll be
Fifty years from now

Purple and blue irises
Blooming in his May garden

Clouds form in the sky
Whlie birds descend to the trees;
A gathering storm

The November spring thunder
Permeates the homes and streets

Journey

Into the silent land I'll walk,
A tracker of the signs of love,
Into the land that leaves no trace,
There to be reborn from above

Tenuous

Every time I leave my house
I wonder if I will return;
Impermanence has many forms,
A lesson that I've slowly learned.

On Contemplation

Rocks are hovering in the sky
A riot takes place in silence
In a mirror that's made from wood
I see a hidden vein of good

Back to Blogging

Good Friends:

I have been deeply involved in a writing project this month and this has minimized my presence here.  However, that project is coming to a conclusion which will allow for more time here at Shaping Words.  I appreciate the Followers who have signed onto this blog, more than I expected.

Now it's back to blogging here at Shaping Words.

Thanks for your patience,

Jim

Daydream

Wind blowing the leaves of the trees
By the road streched across July
A tarot reader spreads her deck
While dolphins between the clouds glide

Litter

The summer solstice sun is slowly set-
ting, as the shadows take on darker hues,
Tasks that I didn't get around to yet
Are transferred to my list of gotta-dos.

But I suspect I'll forget about them,
I don't mean for it to turn out that way,
But new days have their own demands and then
What seemed important yesterday just fades.

I found a letter that was discarded,
(I think it fell out of a truck of trash)
Reading it, my feelings were bombarded --
A fragment of a story now long past.

I decided not to throw it away;
Who knows, perhaps she'll want it back some day.