Eburne Town of Ghosts 2016

As the phantom dogs run along the edge of our vision,
A never seen apparition becomes a mission,
But the constant heard sounds of stalking pace,
From this frantic dream like a haunted tale that race,
The coyotes howl below the willows hollow,
From dens of pups so inquisitive and wild,
Once quaint dwellings brought in centuries gone by,
Sturdy kit homes have all vanished for this land sighs,
Only the gardens grow on with strict boarders still in place,
With hundreds of trees in delicious fruit,
And the delights of flowers of chrysanthemum, roses and marigolds grow on,
All staking claim to warn their flora neighbours their properties survive,
Ghostly gardeners tend to their chores in vain,
So hush for the winds wail that complains,
Mistakes for the cries of the lost spirits which once roamed,
Eburne the town of ghosts all hidden away to moan,
For now the apples that will never be picked,
On this first autumnal day by this cruel sunlight that tricks.

The Sultry Summers Breath of Finn Slough 2016

As the land slows with liquid warm vapours,
The air rises with discontent,
Soon the trapped reeds and cattails seem to explode with equal momentum,
It is the illusion of scorched objections,
Which follow the dragonfiles around this humid marshland,
Such towers of those grasses that'll reach some six feet towards the sunlight,
With flying insects being chased,
Around this windless plain by dragonflies which hunt with precision,
They'll all flutter in fury between those sun weathered forms,
Nature with her instinctive tendencies,
Of being tethered or break before the cooling dusk,
Preserve this summer mirage that reality presents,
More cool air seems to wave away this sublime furnace,
And the seabreeze is felt on all our beautiful faces,
That kiss and breathe us back to life.