Author: cfblack

  • Fruits of war

    Somedays, I think of war and wonder about the beautiful souls never birthed because their parents were harvested in the Spring never to grow ripe in Summer’s heat and enjoy a golden Autumn breeze. 6/28/24

  • An Anole’s life

    Upside down, hidden in green Hoping a bird doesn’t see him first He waits for breakfast to be served Tail curved above its head Feast or famine – kill or be killed A lizard’s life is tough 6/5/24

  • Sheaves of Green Corn

    hot day, sitting in the shade even insects move slow bowl of mixed fruit – savor each flavor tart grape followed by cantaloupe – my favorite news out of Kenya, young lives snuffed out cloistered opposition leaders decry violence there would be less war and violence If leaders led from the front black wasp sips…

  • Holding hands

    My first heroes were my sisters, just the three of us, before three others came They walked me to the school house door when I was only five We are knocking on eternity’s door, aging out, falling apart and I must journey home, hold their hand and walk them to the door 6/3/24

  • Midnight

    bright, white moon night sounds in trees owl in park calls who street lights cast long shadows in the yard distance traffic going anywhere, but here I sit quiet in the dark 6/23/24

  • Ode to Billie Joe

    Was it living up on Choctaw Ridge, Tallahatchie Bridge, Billie Joe MacAllister or something thrown off the bridge last week. Was it the river that flows below it all or the empty space between that spoke to Bobbie Gentry 6/23/24

  • ‘Promise’

    We drift, caught in a river of time. Each moment a verse waiting to be written. Each breath an enjambment, a bridge between what is and what will be. A promise of new beginnings in the spaces between. (Writing from the prompt: Enjambment) 6/12/24

  • ‘Window Washer’

    “in the garden wet with rain” flowers rise and bloom I’ll wash your windows if you dare to see walk you through the doorway dream beneath the sky we will visit with the sun converse in silent whispers synchronize nature’s music piano concerto wet with dew our hearts in shock “no guru, no method, no…

  • ‘Mr. Binkley’s Crab Apple Tree’

    Running through the neighborhood, crawling under bushes, hiding in Mr. Binkley’s crab apple tree. Playing army, believing a tree, a bush, a fence or the corner of a building would protect us from death. Kids fighting imaginary wars with plastic guns. No politics or religious ax to grind. We were undefeated, waiting for the ice…

  • Untitled

    It does not take a storm to drop a limb from a tree sometimes it is a loud crack high up in a tree on a windless day that tells you it is time to let go step clear and let it fall 6/6/24