| my interests |
| dot to dot |
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| and counting . . . |
| published poems |
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| Seasonal Musing The sighing spring Plays its light breath On the leafy greens For us to please And will soon give way To sizzling summer Its hot scorches Making friends On fair features Chasing a frightened fall Who is too submissive And perhaps too mild Then gets swept away By the powerful hissing Of a whistling winter With its head Reared back laughing |
| Night I have no desire for the night But the night desires me He wants my innocence My purity, white Sneaking up to Me and then Snatches My Thin wrist Whirling me Around in the Darkness, specks of light Making me forget white The black fulfillment of my Wants with his clinging claws on tight |