Forever On the wind

A father leans to listen

to secrets on the sand.

Against the roaring ocean

he reaches for her hand.

Sea winds catch the secret

skipping on the sand;

steals her whispered words

as head to head they stand

and angel wings now carry it

across the singing sands.

Nags Head Beach, June 1995

Thunderstorm

The storm came

sounding like tangled horns,

like the tangled horns of sheep;

wrapped in a struggle of resounding booms

on a craggy mountain steep.

Force against force, they confronted each other,

rattling and clanging in wrath

‘til the stronger ones got the best of it

and the weak

murmured off down the path.

                                                 -Joy S. Barefoot

Like a Dream

Sometimes

I think

I dreamed it all

when asparagus grew wild;

lady slippers

peeped at me

from the woods path’s crooked mile.

Sometimes

I think

a world of fairies

slipped down from the hills

and laid

the pretty things about

where moss

grew damp and still

with glint of sun

like diamonds

on rain-teared

holly leaves.

Sometimes

I think

I dreamed it all.

What a tale

do fairies weave!

-Joy S. Barefoot

After the Storm

Purple iris bow

in exhaustion

and absolute submission.

Morning sun glistens

on deciduous leaves

of low-growing underbrush.

Twisted Pin Oak leaves

hang heavy

in the wake.

The heavy Hostas cannot lift

a heavenward leaf.

One lone bird

sends forth

a hesitant chirp;

then another,

and once more

the woods come alive

with morning song.

-Joy S. Barefoot

Southern Dog Days

Southern Dog Days

               -Joy S. Barefoot

Sun, almost set,

a fireball of brilliant tangerine
dipping behind the pines
beyond the old rail fence;
framed by the knobby limbs
of the aging apple tree.
Cricket screams crescendo; die away.
Lawn mowers make final paths
over dry and brittle grass.
A distant train
whistles a lonesome sound.
I can hear, and almost feel,
the wheels, battering the tracks.
One lone bird sings a twilight song
and the air lays hot and humid.
An old man, in a red cap,
goes to his garden
with his gathering bucket.
Red geraniums droop in thirst.
Coral spreads across the sky,
slowly spilling its heart.
Tree limbs blacken
against approaching darkness
as lights begin to appear in houses.
A door slams.
Another bird calls.
Restless leaves whisper,
signaling a fast approaching storm.
A low rumble
and the earthy smell of rain.