Saturday morning

first light of day
bright silence rules

sun, fresh coffee
illuminate fleeting,
holy solemnity

First steaming mug
is communion, a
shared indulgence

professing to dog;
Rat-terrier, canine
father-confessor

What can I say?
We’re Protestants

A musing

You seduced me.

Drew me in
played me for the fool

and I bit
took the bait
tried to dart away
only driving the hook
in deeper

now here I am
at your pondering mercy;
throw me in your creel
fry me up
toss me back

let me swim away
or watch me flopping
for breath at your feet

Usually you throw me back.

I get bigger, bolder
still incapable of resistance
when the bright flash of
inspirational lure crosses
whatever path I am swimming

writer as languid, sassy bass
catch me if you can
catch me as you always do

catch-and-release is a
weak metaphor, considering
your use of live bait
and my less-than-persnickety
appetite for flashy, darting
things that shine

Throw me back.
Come again tomorrow.

Progression

The faith of middle age

bears little resemblance
to the spirituality of youth

what passed for insight
at twenty was a liturgical
hedonism of belief

The faith of my middle years
is more tangible, palpable,
believable, less explainable
but far more credible
to anyone bothering
to pay attention.

Accessorizing rime

The albatross swinging
from around my neck

is simply a rental

like a tux, I pick one up
just when needed

for extremely formal
occasions only

Reading each other

She is reclining,
reading
on bed or couch;
on her side,
jean-clad legs in
fetal curl,
head propped up
on cocked, sensual
elbow, other hand
holding the book
her eyes flitting
through her fiction

sometimes she is on
her back, nestled in
pillows, engrossed,
both hands grasping
stomach-resting book
bare feet crossed
at the ankles

I sit on the edge of
couch, bed
casually, gently run a
single finger across
her t-shirt clad
midsection in gentle
sawing motion,
poking; outlining
so I pointedly, gently
tell her every time

is just where the staples
would be located
in her centerfold shot

should be so inclined
to ever pose for one

She always nods in a
way that only being
together for twenty years
can acknowledge both
my attraction, and her
starring role in my elusive,
creative daydreaming.

She smiles, and we
continue reading

Guardian pal

Like a shadow
you know is there
but disappears when
you turn to confront it

it’s there, but he’s not

Following discreetly,
benignly nourish
part of the atmosphere
minus the trench coat

Sometimes light diffuses
instead of illuminates

My father’s memory,
legacy, aura follows me

no, I am not paranoid
just aware of the oddly
whimsical, enchanting and
sardonic, wry and witty

benevolent, quirky,
constant companion