HOW MANY MORE SUMMERS?

 Another summer has past,

evaporated like warm breath

on cold glass

 

And I ask myself:

How many more summers await me?

Because the painful truth

is that I am drawing down

to that final one

 

We are finite players

in an infinite universe

 

For children,

there is no end.

Just a series of beginnings

finality merely an obscure blemish

in the distance, insignificant

to youthful eyes

 

But to those of us

who are labelled “seniors,”

the supply of tomorrows

is rapidly dwindling, like

the daylight in early autumn

 

 

So you take them one at a time,

reveling in each sun-splashed day,

hoping another summer looms ahead,

and maybe,

just maybe

you can find away

to keep that dwindling light

from going dark

CORONA, CORONA (WHERE YOU BEEN SO LONG?)

They say this plague

is a culling of the herd

to cleanse us of impurities



That this circus of death

blanketing the earth

is our punishment for sins

against Nature



That our pain and loss

is repayment for what

we have stolen

from earth’s bounty



And so we lift our heads skyward

to seek relief and forgiveness

from unseen forces



only to discover the sky is vacant

and that we are simply poker chips

in a game of chance

for Nature’s amusement,

a cosmic roll of the dice,

a spin of the roulette wheel



Corona is just the bookie
collecting the bets

UNDERCURRENTS

We skim along the deserted beach

like a pair of carefree kittens

absorbed in our private world,



a flawless sun massaging our skin

as the waves tease our feet

and the sand caresses our toes.



I grasp your hips and raise you skyward,

your back arched like a guileless swan,

your arms outstretched as if to clutch

the puffs of ivory clouds drifting lazily overhead.



I carry you into the water and gently let you down,

the waves slapping our thighs,

luring us forward like an oceanic temptress.



We hold hands and embrace the warm salty sea

that beckons to us like a mother’s plea,

and as the waters envelop us,



we kiss a kiss of immeasurable passion,    

the relentless undertow leading us
to our own magical hideaway

THE BIG LIE