Sunday Afternoon

Late sunday afternoon, sun slipping down.

Jazz playing softly as evening starts to own

The day.  Tasks completed, next day to plan.

But now evening descends, and we're left to stand

As night creeps in.

Sunday, the day to restore our peace.

Tidy our homes, our lives, our needs.

Tomorrow we will charge ahead.

Today there's movies to be seen, books to be read

Until it's time for dinner.

Winter Ocean

The winter ocean, swirling spray
White as it climbs the breakwater, gray
Ripples between the waves.  Just
Constant motion of the water, as it must
Surge against the shore.

Unbroken by clouds, clear blue sky
Above, a quiet contrast to the water by
A lonesome shore.  Few people see
The movement or hear the roar of the sea
Pounding all the more.

New Year

January is the time for fresh starts.
Days get longer, lengthening the parts
Of living in the wider world.  New plans
Develop, new schemes unfold, nothing stands
Between life and living.

Though winter still holds a grip
On outside actions, there is a slip.
As that sun lingers longer, burning
Orange in the west, turning
Evening into a later event.

Covered by tarps, boats are at dock.

No traffic on the river, everything at lock

Down, slowed by December's slow rhythmic turns.

Just sunlight on the water, and lone birds

Passing high overhead.

All's quiet on the Charles this afternoon.

No sailboats or rowers, no synchronized crews' tune.

Winter sun reflects on water, on skyscrapers along the shore.

The river flows, following hope to a far off door

Heading to spring.





Willows

A December afternoon, a chilly walk
Through willow trees.  A time to take stock
Of the year's passing.  Time winding down,
Months thrown around like leaves on the ground.
Few days are left on the calendar.

Summer busy walkways, empty of feet.
Just sunlight and seashore, a treat
To be savored before true winter sets in.
A new year is coming, the old one has been
Tossed away to memory.

Short days' rewards

Sunset is coming sooner, sooner.
Days are shorter, time turns lunar
Rather than solar.  But the sun
In contrast to the night to come
Blasts through my windows.

Night comes early, then stays late.
Dawn is tardy and I wake
A little later.  But come the day
And sunshine makes its way
Splashing across my floor.

Time out

A coffee shop morning, just a short break.
In a rush of errands time to take
A few minutes, half an hour,
From the lists which fill all our
Lives on the run.

Time to stop and hear the chatter,
The milk steamed and the clatter
Of dishes and cups.  Before setting out
To start the engine, fill the cart, dash about
Life's busy roads.