Dr. Charles A Stone

on this first night of the harvest moon
this evening when diana's resplendent orb
rests upon the backs of broken clouds
transfixed by the evening's brightest star
...

One day I'd whirl through the garden,
fingers splayed in sunny rays
above newborn buds singing.
...

On a night the new moon
is chased by witch-struck clouds,
throw a rose into the air
and bury a silver spoon
...

There is only silence on the footpath
I have traced to this ancient hearth -
the hammering of stone upon stone
has faded, just as the reds and yellows
...

It isn't just the fading echoes
or galaxies festooned against
enameled night skies that
draws me to the wilderness.
...

No hand slips quietly into a body of water
without sending ripples to every shore,
just as no tide washes a beach without
carrying sand away grain by grain.
...

each wrong turn leaves a scar
on the stippled lining of my psyche

so when i turned around abruptly and
...

teach me about kisses
baskets of dreams
blankets of clouds
chalkboards of trees
...

that my breath, warm against your breasts,
fires anew the passion chilled by winter storms,
calling forth fields of melted buttercups
in which to lie beneath a warming sun.
...

in the cemetery of hope
there are crosses scattered among trees
and children waiting beneath the surface
for their chance on earth
...

I tried to understand why
your whispers turned to silence
when I asked what makes
hearts skip a beat
...

Forget the music
come dance with me
in the silence of Oz
before the tornado
...

When I thought you were going away
I squeezed my eyes shut so tight
that tears turned to rhinestones
and fell away like broken icicles;
...

I will come for you in the future tense.
when? I don't know
but I will sing and will shatter
your notion of the present
...

Come sit with me on the beach
where the lake's many faces
hide beneath the boughs
of willow trees in shade
...

floating
above the stone
in custard-thick mist
...

Blossoms thick as wool
hide delicate buds

from the icy teeth
...

beneath a blanket
of myriad stars
i lie quietly
upon a sandy shore
...

Tell me, Perdida, why you scratch
at the foam like a heron choosing crabs.

Certainly, you know the tide
...

Take small bites and it'll last longer,
you'll enjoy it more.

Nonsense!
...