Best Sloughs Poems

Tell me of your peace. 
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child,...

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Dawn's
Stillness
Invites me
Vermillion hills
Clouds' engulfing tangerine stillness crests
Tension sloughs, blows away like old snakeskin 
Desert rain scent
Cleansing me
Pedal
Flow
Smile
Conceals
Morning’s ride
Heart's treasure trove
Work’s gray walls can't touch my...

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It was a long lonely night at the lumber mill
Just listening to a whippoorwill 
In the dark beside a logging road.
I’ve got fifteen cars of...

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It is not a fall,
A python sloughs its old skin and wears new look;
It is never a fall,
A snail finds splinter in its shell and...

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*Inspired by Cheryl Hoffman’s “The Skin We’re In”  — Go read it!

On a turkey it's called a wattle
on a moose, "the bell," (not “the...

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In the misty morning amid the elm and maple trees 
The whiteness delicately floats above the ponds waterline
The night hunters abandon their night search for...

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Wind’s Life

Thundering wind is on its way,
The beat of sleet 
Rhythmical, crackling on panes,

Wind is a being.
Touching spring with a kiss,
Then turning macho man
On a...

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He was a common-place stranger,
Occupying the corner table every night,
And every day, alone but never lonely,
In a tropical beach bar, with thatched roof and no...

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Why are the sea gulls shopping here, if not
for "White Stag, "No Boundaries." or "Faded Glory?"
Is there some other story?  Coffee, Tea or You,
or...

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I met an old veteran the other day.
How old he was I really couldn't say,
But I could tell by his shuffling gait,
That, alas, he was...

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The issue's not yet signed and sealed.
Three cogent answers hold the field,
and no-one knows which is the best.
I'll set them out before you, lest
the question...

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Should I, mere a rabbit of sand, shiny hair,
sport a shock of fur mired in clay,
they from gofer mounds, propped on to peer, would sound...

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No No No it says
a little momento of a soul
with which I imagine I identify
 
I can see her there
crouched in the stall
armed with her...

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to dream, to lie, in sweet repose
and drink the thoughts of those who rose
from dark eternal slumber bleak,
to steal the voice of those who speak

see...

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The day has cooled,
 into a recliner
muddied.
Rinse it off...replenish...repeat
mud sloughs off into somebody else's drain.
That's ok  because I'm clean again.
  
Recycling this mud...

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