OCTOBER SAVES

Fighting a battle often lost in the darkness
of a weary mind. There is no rest there.
Cursing the single candle lit to offer
its illumination; to infiltrate this
mental stagnation. Accursed slumber
why do you wage against my will?
Will you release me like the leaves
of October’s colorful flurry, left
to scatter in the cool winds from place
to place; a migration to discover the peace
that I crave. You have found me, October.
You have extended your lifeline in fine fashion,
a saving assist for one clamoring for control
over heart and soul,
over heart and mind.
I clutch your hand as I am flung over
the edge of reason. Your season is here.
You want me near, October, where I belong.
Anything else would be just wrong.

MORNING MISTS REMIND ME

 
The sun, not yet awake;
me, slightly more as I sit sipping.
Another morning begins like every other.
Dark. Silent. Lacking motivation, 
a sensation I share this early. 
Dressing for the job, just another slob 
in a nine-to-five hole; my soul
sold long ago for an escape from seclusion. 
The illusion of this dawning comes
with no warning necessary. 
I tarry a moment longer, bracing 
for the moment for which my heart longs. 
It is strong, this urging; this poetic purging 
of thoughts buried deep within. It is a sin
that I need reminding. But before 
the blinding sun peeks above the horizon, 
my eyes see through the morning mist.
And I think of you. In the shadows of the trees,
a silhouette lives and lingers. Fingers outstretched 
and reaching; beseeching me to return.
I yearn for these moments, long buried,
as are you. Moist and enveloping, developing
contact with every inch of skin exposed.
I am deposed and rendered immobile.
Your eyes, tear filled and vacant, had pierced me,
pleading for a last longing look before death
took your love and replaced it with 
these thoughts and memories. Your eyes,
moist and enveloping, drench my spirit
and I hear it in the rustling wind
running its cool fingers through these branches.
It enhances my morning. The sun begins to illuminate
and I wait for it to show its face.
There is a trace of you in it as well.
I can tell by the smile it brings me.
It stings me sweetly, completely
filling my day with the beauty it espouses.
It houses these feelings that languish within morning mists. 
And so I am reminded. Morning mists remind me of you.

UNENCUMBERED SLUMBER

The weather forecast delivers as predicted;
a wicked downpour, torrential and damaging.
All the while, I keep managing to sleep.
It is a deep doze, nearly comatose is my brain
as the rain continues. It appears she brought friends.
The lightning flashes and the rumbles never end.

Thunder rattles my windows, but it does not disturb my slumber.

Oddly, insomnia escaped me when the rains came.
The same can be said of my apnea, I wonder
if the hum of the thunder plays into my slumber?
Does the electricity cause static that makes it cling
within the ring of its timpani; a “drum” laden symphony
that pacifies my eyes allowing them to not be breached?
Does the lightning beseech my heart to remain still
until the thrill of thunder’s wonder subsides?

Thunder rattles my windows, but it does not disturb my slumber

and therein lies my answer. Is it right every night
to pray for the rain that offers my tired strain a respite?
For the hypnotic roll takes full control as I lay in a heap,
awash in dream filled sleep, unfettered and undisturbed.
But, the silence of the night supplies a fright that says I will lay here,
awake all night. It is then, I thank the forecasters call for rain with thunder.

Thunder rattles my windows, but it does not disturb my slumber.