The Bone Yard 2 Poem by Thomas Plotz

The Bone Yard beckons, my return.

Dirt, it's hard to find here, although it's fine;
Scrub-grass, sage-brush and cactus, love's the sand
With High Hills.

I'm not sure they still own that area?
Over by J.,
With the way, the orange chair glows,
With the setting sun.

It wasn't the first time I saw someone rake rocks -
Into a delightful pattern, then tending to the potted garden,
The first time, was in Japan; but this was the first time,
Here with you, at your home in the hills.

I still imagine, you sitting with your legs up
Feet pressed together;
Just listening to the wind, waiting for the last of the days light,
To sink past the horizon, then out of sight.

Illumining the sky in sunsets brilliance.
Of pleasant purple and orange hues, yielding to;
The coming of dusk, and the endless - Starry Milky Way.
Such joy and fulfillment.

Just being totally immersed by nature splendor.
Not much to do in the high hills.
Just sitting here with you, was serenity.


Where the orange chair would glow, with the setting sun.

My Heart Beckons…


T. Plotz
The Bone Yard 2
1 March 2019.