Some rough, some smooth, and here’s 2 Cinquains, one old, one new, both finished, not rough, and contented.

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Sometimes the image is only a gentle touch
Among quiet hours
When cold harsh lights
Will not intrude the dusky softness.
Sometimes the image is a necessary calm
A child‘s smile.

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Cinnamon tea is a warming sound,
Softly dressing a silken minute.
Delicious is quite a pretty color,
Lightly wrapping the quiet hours.

Touchings, soft as fur and hard
as diamond saturate our senses,
overwhelm perception, breathing
life into spaces found between us.

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AUBADE, CINQUAIN.

The sun
In sudden grace
Arrives, awakes in May
With winter done, a warmer place
Birth Day!

Aubade: A poem to the dawn
Cinquain: A 5 line poem, the lines having 2, 4, 6, 8, and 2 syllables in that order. The meter is iambic for the first 4 lines, and the last line is a spondee, both syllables stressed.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, CINQUAIN.

New Year’s
portends, like Moons
in kissing dreams, a chance
And drinking vows, arriving soon
New Days!

BABY RAP FOR RHYTHM ROWS
(Ya know, like corn rows, gotta practice style once in a while, baby)

listen to a Rap,
get yo head round dat beat
da rhyming beat, meat, feet
But the word come from da street
my friend fall out like heat
on a Corner in an L-A- night
Around the hood
where the word, bro, Word
is yo, what’s down is good.