NASA Image of the Day

Sunday, July 19, 2009


Ambling bulwark contemplating,
Desire Eloquence First.
Graciously, Honestly, incapable, just
Knowing Love means New
Omnipotence persists
Relegating silence, thusly,
Undulations vie
With Xavier's

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Good Work, Quoth Comfort

Oh, workaday, how blessed I am,
Embroiled, like this, in Thee:
Sweet Bean juice filled cup, waking eyes,
I blink, stretch, look....still Me!
The rhythm, pacing, stretch of Time,
I leap across, face first,
And think, with quick wit, thought, and pause,
Of when I did my worst.
Not often; ethic drawn upon, Two Stalwart Stocks
With dour looks, and tempered smiles
Made short the momentary guile,
Responded to with sheepish grin, and clean white smocks,
...with maybe a sigh or two; too real! A human bean,
Reaching skyward, still.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Oh, my dearest,
It is the Fourth of July.
Today, you would be 49.
With laughter, I light all the candles, twinkling a spirit light
Path to join me in silent celebration, and think of
Your story of confused youth, wondering why so many
were celebrating
Your birth.

There were fireflies this evening;
I sat in the twilight's gleaming, as the sky poured watercolours upon the garden,
And I imagined you breathing with a certain hesitance.

In a quiet moment, when I could not help myself, there, in the dark,
With the slight mist of eve, and tumbling seconds of years and thoughts
Bringing the dark and the lanterns into a kind of gentle swaying,
there, in the silence,
I sipped sweet wine's nectar, dreaming of your lips brushing mine,
Softly in the kind shroud of twinkling lights.

The dry cling of pressed grapes, and my closed eyes
Brought them closer, and the fireflies approved,
Glinting suddenly near my misted eyes.
I was sentinel, and queen, at once,
as you ordained.
The palm trees only made it again so,
And the eyes were dark, and near mine,
And wanting me, again,
At Last.

How soft, the question. How sweet, the answer.
How gentle, the night, amidst the velvet of blanketed stars
Twinkling their sighs, and clasping prayers,
Amidst the passing years.

The sleep seems a kind encasement, dreaming.
I shall not mind waking, tomorrow, remembering.