French Quarter, Late Summer
French Quarter, late summer.
Glossy green leafed,
Red berried Magnolia.
Soft west wind, warm, light, dry
Brushing hair across my face
With gentle touch, a lover's touch.
Soft west wind, hands through my hair,
Lover wind, kissing away
Foot sounds, lost in street sounds
As I walk, and as I walk,
No sound around me
But the music in my heart.
Caddo ShadeImpossibly whiteLike a ghost or a god,An alabaster egretStands in somber niche,Ancient, aloof, enigmatic,Barring the gatesTo a shadow worldWith eye of unconcerned flintAnd gleam of unworldly eleganceBetween the cypress trunksLike stony temple columnsSurrounded by worshippersOn their kneesFrozen in mystic ritesBeneath fluttering wraithsOf trailing, faded moss,Like tattered bannersOf long forgotten kings,Barring the gatesTo a world apartFrom blue sky and blue stream,Green moss beneathGreen leaves aboveA world suspended,Dark and still, a mysteryBetween water and airHaunted by one white spirit.The way is shut.I dare not passThe silent sentry.Even sun rays are muted,Unable to penetrateA secret inviolate.