Summer Flowers

Are there still weddings in this weather?
It seems that the brides would melt into pools of anxious sugary syrup.
I suppose the show must go on.
I’m not as cynical as I once was.
This activity is no stranger to me than sports or watching television.

But I do worry about the wilting flowers.
They will begin to lean over the second the ceremony is over.
They will question their decision to bear blossom.
They will falter faced with rainy seasons.

Care for them Mother.
The innocent victims of Nature’s drama.
Protect the fragile sensations.
Keep the light high enough so they don’t wither,
And strong enough to draw the attention of their perfect seeking faces.

Howling Wolf Blues

It takes courage to sing
To let out the wolf’s blood
Let it rain into the mouths of prey

Accosted by naysayers
Yet still unwavering
Into the moon’s waning ear
The strains of earthly summer tunes
Improvised by shutting out the noise
From the orchestrated blues

Sometimes she must run
To escape the mounting tension
And build up the well
Until the levees burst violence
Spray the walls with blood red calm
Wanting to do no harm
But the chemical is strong

As the pull of the goddess mothers face becomes undeniable
She reaches down into her belly
Where the fiery pain burns
Where the gestating movement approaches critical mass
Stand straight, here comes the rain
And a thundering howl claps across the American sky
The ones who were waiting the longest
Are satisfied by the sound
And the beast deflates into a shell
Defeated in the true glory of nature
The sounds and the cells absorbed
Into a stark, silent western landscape