In the flicker of movement
caught in the spaces where shadows reside
light filters in to seek us
dreamers standing in summer breezes
paying homage to the end of days.
We hear the whisper of crossing winds
swaying palms like native skirts dancing
back and forth hypnotize
mesmerize our minds in this quiet
where peace slips in
and we find the awareness
of everything and anything
within and without.
We escape into the darkness,
journeymen taking steps
following the prints found
from those who came before
and I wonder do those who fell behind
seek out the newest indentation,
wondering who came before them
and round the cycle goes
beach walkers lost in thought
as the waves move in and out.
The ocean
exhaling as we step within
brushes our toes with its watery breath
caressing us in its motion
as we sink down in
feeling the tiny shells and…

Cruel space

Upon a lost “soul” amidst

A “hunting” crowd

Filled with noise

From loud voices scattered in the air

Like bad perfume

.

Brutal 

Are the well composed

Beings posed in well

Pressed shirts and dresses

With neckties to match their distress

As they

sway from Street to street

.

The air is heavy

I can barely breathe

Without thinking

Of the vast bold air that linger 

On the open prairie

Of home

.

City lights shine

Upon sleepless beings

Headed every where

Or no where

They shine on me too

As I make my way 

Back to the lights under the moon

Far outback.

Susan McMillan