Carpe Rosa




Flowers fade, and fall at last,

Petals marry ‘now’ to ‘past’,

Only what you’ve stored en masse

Will feed your summer dreams.


Daylight nods as autumn wakes,

Giving less than dying takes,

Storing life while living breaks,

Ripping golden seams.



Don’t be Sorry, Sunshine

Don’t be sorry, Sunshine, though glory meets its doom;

don’t grip your resentment though your smile has lost its bloom.

No insects vie for pollen, no bees hang on your words,

but in the sunset of your life, seeds satisfy the birds.

Summer’s Art

Deserted, you lie on bed of dirt,

Alone, neglected, forsaken;

And yet, you seem to feel no hurt

And no offense is taken.

Smothered by fuzz from cottonwood trees,

Pummelled by showers, whipped by wind;

Haunted by vistas of swarming bees,

Dangers without, trepidations within –

And still, you offer on platter of praise

Your juiciest, tastiest, berriest heart;

As soaking up sun in all its rays,

Your bountiful treasure becomes summer’s art.