rain hammers against concrete and wood
distant leaves hang on until the wind wins
the seasonal tug-of-war
let the Mary Miller’s lines go
catch them again
walk the Belle decks
whisper to the boiler and pumps
sharing our stories of the past season
the cityscape looms starboard
its light erasing the stars
the wharf grows into an endless plain
and out the portside
the river stretches wide arms
to everywhere
Category Archives: sonnet
King Street Parade, Charleston
The evening air a sponge soaked
in Magnolia sweat. There’s no escape
from southern belles in denial.
No no reprieve no baptisms in the rain
but still we look for meaning carved
in antebellum inspired architecture.
Nothing here dies except old men
and debutant dreams.
Let us wander these secret gardens
hand in hand unhurried
by the empire-waisted dresses
listing away from the rising moon
under the arms of living oaks
holding up grief-laden clouds.
honeysuckle choke
on the backporch listening to the rain
drinking coffee hiding behind
a holly and honeysuckle wall. Monday
and I’m off work. plodding away
between sips at my translations of bird song
the image of the yard overrun in honeysuckle
makes me smile. invasive and beautiful
as quiet piano music, expansive as kudzu
on Pine Mountain, ever-present as my neighbors
smoking their late morning weed
like gunshots after sunset in the Spring
(keep them property values down, boys!)
let honeysuckle choke out the sirens, too
let breathe and sip, the dogs and me don’t care