Cyclic Journey

She takes a lover in the summer
And leaves him in the fall.
In winter, the bedsheets are washed
And dried
And the covers are changed
Every spring.

Next summer, she takes another lover
And he lies between
These sheets.
The fresh wash scent is new
To him
As he mistakes an annual courtesy
For a lasting place to sleep.

Journey's End

Journey's end in lovers' meeting
In shady lanes
Or lonely country roads
Or open plains
Or simply some small
Coffee shop
Where the latte is warmer
Than the heart.

Journey's end in lovers' meeting
Unless it rains
Or shines
Or simply turns into that
Partly cloudy which is
Never really fish nor fowl
But always cool
And indecisive.

Journey's end in lovers' meeting
In paperbacks for sure,
Or occasionally in Dear Abby,
Though she sent the last
Three lonely hearts to smell
The coffee
At the same place where the latte
Is always warmer than the heart.

Journey's end in lovers' meeting
Unless the bus is late
And the car breaks down
And sometimes, simply sometimes,
The effort goes to waste.

Shiva's Dance

It's a gnawing feeling,
The last of one's kind,
At the ending moment
Of ending times,
Where birds fall
Like snow flakes
And the stars begin
To dance
And water turns
To brine.

Most prophets are
Like a broken clock
And most clocks
Are bound to break.
Besides time itself,
Has ceased to tick,
Stopping for a smoke
Beneath a banyan tree
Where a pleasant breeze
Drifts cool and sweet.

From the shores of Allegheny
Across the Pennsylvanian sea
You talked about your life
Among the dunes of old Nebraska
And the sands of Iowa.
You said you once found a fossil
Beneath a banyan tree.

And then you told us tales
About the lost human race.
Strange creatures, you said,
Who fell from grace,
From carelessness,
With little trace.