Sitting on my deck,
warm cup of coffee,
soothing balm to the
palms of my hands.
Dark gray flannel
twilight rimmed with
dim halo of
approaching light.
Furtively peeking
over hilltops,
crawling through valleys
spreading soft glow among fog banks;
nudging through quilted
layers of cotton wool,
probing along recessed grades,
delicately stroking
life awake from
sheltered wombs;
reassuring and deliberate,
coaxing a new beginning
from damp embers of yesterday.
Gerard A. Geiger August 12, 2004
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Read from my published works; The Complete Poetical Works Listening to the Corn  |