Farmer’s Market
I visited the Farmer’s market
where the air smelled like tropical fruit,
spring flowers,
Cajun popcorn,
Belgian waffles,
fresh organic vegetables
ground coffee,
and gooey sheets of saltwater taffy
that spin round and round behind glass
The mid-morning light glows softly across
the striped circus awnings.
Wind chimes make their own music
with basso tones
and coffee cups sing.
Saturday Night
The moon-like lamp near the bed is on
and the house is calm
Immense flowers shaped like trumpets
Blow jazz through the window
It’s Saturday night
I am reading in bed
The phone rings and is left
Unanswered
The lamp near the bed is on
And the house is calm.
A January night
In a car staring out the window, stranded.
Somewhere either in Sedona or Bakersfield.
Nobody is around to hear me.
There is nothing but
the beauty of stillness
and solitude for a companion
Dark evening clouds suspend over the plains
silent in the moonlight
No beginning, no end
Myself sheathe in darkness
I am disconnected
Bound by nothing
not even time
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