As I come to you

Gone is my long youthful stride

But still with purpose

 I'm on a dirt road

Twenty miles outside of town

Following the sun

Savory and tart

Love is a rich concoction 

With no recipe

 When the fire has burned

And the ashes have been strewn

What of works and words?

 If gods are doubtless

They must abound everywhere

None greater or less

 There's no map for this

But the arc of the heavens

To show you a way

Swathed in guiltless dreams

It sleeps in a star-lit crib

Blue-veined and most hale

 This nest has survived

The gale of winter's timbre

Still empty - it waits

 My heart's a pilgrim

(on a passage never tread)

Each step is the first

Songs and thunder drums

Hoops become birds, frogs. and snakes

Totemic dances 

This pale borrowed light

Bathes her with milky luster

                                        Moonglow in her eyes                                         

 I wondered today

When will mockingbirds next sing

And quail make their nests

 In this pearly bud

I see a verse unwritten

 Of spring, I presume

 They yearn for the truth

When certainly there is none

So feeds the desire

They were brief and bright

I was besotted by both

A bird and rainbow

 They are what they are

Tedious tautologies

Finished in the end

 Modern volcanoes

Billions belch their toxic breath

The sixth extinction?

With no intention

Calmness without reference

Essence with no name

 How agile is youth

That twirls to life's wondrous songs

And leaps with such grace

 Silence cuts deepest

In the flesh of confidence

No wound bleeds more doubt

 Which seeds will soon bud?

What hand cast those favored?

Fortune or effect?

What she said to him

Just came out - no harm was meant

Until he heard it

 It is so patient

And I never disappoint

The garden each day

 High home for a clutch

Safehold in a saguaro

For the cactus wren

 The gnawing question

Why would one who knows a fork

Use chopsticks instead?

For Our Son's Birthday

 On this winter day

A generation was born

And family formed

 Mother always said

Breakfast is most important

I preferred dessert

Who wants to explain

When the wind was born

Or where thunder goes 

 Pseudo George Santos

Who puts the con in congress

There's no lie too large