Crystal Panes
Slow rippled music on a summer night,
legs drawn up beneath melon colored skirts,
brown feet - bare with painted toes,
tussled manes of brown and honey,
now thick stranded, leaning forward
over red filled glasses.
In the center of the eye images dance,
each passing through small red crystal panes
held high and to the lips.
A crepe blouse falls further off the shoulder
with each toasting to ourselves
and to each other. May it never end.
Frog Legs
Typewriters
and white paper
waiting for words,
a hint, a whisper-
a subtlety
wafting upon air,
a mere notion-
and
there goes the mind,
hoppin' down the road
like some 'ole green
Kermit-the-Frog
chasing a fly,
open, close
open, close,
kerplunk, kerplunk.
The Dancer
She stands barefoot by the open door,
slipping easily through well scrubbed floors
and warm rising scents of candles' wax.
A captive of the evening breeze, fringed white feather
with the inborn sense of flight to hold her balanced,
arms extended, a dancer upon gleaming slivers.
She wears sheerness, hibiscus and peridot crocheted in silk
as stars into the evening, thoughts that sway
in willow trees, the heart resides in golden amber.
Humming with back arched and fingers curved
in perfect pose, she remains to await both the coming
of the silkworm and the wider side of the horizon.