Smooth Jazz

A cool night and a light rain,

and smooth jazz, Wynton

mellow on the horn

and the ivories tickled,

the soft pulse of a bass

ushering in autumn, seasoned, soft,

a slow slide into fall’s retreat.

Freedom is

Freedom is a wild animal

caged, snarling, pacing back

and forth and back again

behind iron bars separating us,

daring us to step closer, infringe

on its space, a warning, a threat,

when what they seek is found

beyond the unlocked door where

freedom is granted, liberty bestowed

in the commonwealth of humanity.

Officially,

September is still summer,

but autumn is not too far removed,

creeping closer with temperatures dropping,

more dark than light; the kids are now back in school

and summer folks are closing up camps and heading home,

heading south; and the smell of woodsmoke rising,

acrid and sharp, idly drifting from chimneys, fires lit

to keep us warm on these cooler mornings, preparing us

for the season ahead, the cold and snow of winter.

Part and Parcel

Standing up to our knees in the ocean’s currents,

numbing cold and a wind-swept spray, we can feel

the power of the earth pulling at us, to take

us further out into the sea, out beyond the breaking

waves, a reminder that as earth’s children

we share that same force coursing through us,

connecting us to all that is good and powerful,

something bigger than ourselves, part and parcel

of the universe, that which all men seek, seeking peace