The pathways of time
Blending hours
In a mixture of
Light and dark
Casting shadows
Into a homogenous
Stew

And yet time moves on
Like a river without end
Forging a course
Of its own making
Burning in limestone
Hard as granite
An eternity forsaking
All boundaries

Black holes notwithstanding
The empty void
******* time into a vacuum
Frozen in the universe
And still time finds a way
Penetrating reality
Bending light for its own purpose
Into the unknown

Never showing itself
Never enumerating
Its variations
On a theme of its
Own making
Hidden within the
Pathways of time

The tapestry of the mind
Filled with golden threads
Like the orbits in the universe

Grief prevents momentum
And sadness sustains limbo
Seconds become days
With relentless stagnation
Fate playing tricks
In ways unforeseen
As calendars remain
Fostering the season
Lessening reality
In intangible ways
That heightens the dogma
Of grief

The yellow light of dawn
Burning through the trees
Awakening the day

Late afternoon
A gentle breeze
The trees a full rich green
On the cusp of summer

The sky’s a perfect sky-blue
With wisps of clouds
Barely visible
Transparent
Like cigarette smoke
In a film noir
Slowly drifting across the tapestry

The sun
Just before it sets
Bright, with that extra glow
Of eventide
Showering the tops of the trees
In a halo of shimmering light

A perfect time to be lazy
Reclining in a comfortable chair
Daisy, my dog, watching her world
Then drifting off happily
With drooping eyes to nap

A busy day
Slowly ending
With golden moments
Before ev’ning shadows
Envelop the day
And gentle breezes
Drift into night

Building a bridge
From here to reality
Crossing the path
Of the unknown

Holding hands with God
Walking through the journey
Recognizing passion
And the eternity of love


In loving memory of my wife, Lydia Franklin
                           Dancer/Actress

driftwood floats
to a corner
of the lake
hidden from view
in a cove
shrouded by trees

sailboats glide
on a breeze as
mild as september
over water as
smooth as glass
tinted amber

hidden depths with
spring-filled caverns
limitless
against the
ebbing tide

summer haze and
autumn colors
new day’s glory
turns to
evening shade

flying fish and
water urchins
fishing rods
with baited
hooks

swimmers dive
into pale blue
water
crystal clear
with a hint
of green

fishes ride
in the wake
of rowboats
speedy oars
pulled by
teams of men

gentle times
as the lake
remembers
passing times
that remain
the same