Thespian Drummer

Dusk has arrived in fullness
with moon and stars

Interned at the Milky Way I
Made sure to sign the Guest Book

In Infinite gratitude for trusting
My voice and coming to New Mexico

I turn 70 this year.

Autumn here carries
pages of caution
written across the air
In a signature of its calming breath
bordering the larks
of my own soul in
Searing creases of Light like
the aging, fallen symmetry of trees
expressed in an instance of chaos,
Willfully adjacent in silence,
piqued in the ardent smells
of limber pine, I find this
One moment of light comes to me,
as if in lonely disarray –
you see, I’ve been given notice
To a time where I cannot
escape its beauty, the simple
fact that here -above all else-
I am strewn among the
forest’s dance of incline
this falling, dying sunlight,
Tuned to a Song of Favor
A precious gift of sight

© Thespian Drummer / adjacent in silence

Rain clouds reflect a
fawn light end-of-day
shimmering in grey blue
tiled in silver
as slow winds bring
with it the breath of
a sheltered shower falling
rivulets of precious water
streaks across my window
painting abstracts of motion
choreographed by gravity
and a miner’s wind of chance
orchid blue clouds move slowly
now just above me and out of reach
lest they become a delicate fog
among a serene light
embracing the high desert warmth
in rain stopping long enough
to reveal its silence of night
dusk folding now into the
smell of rainfall, into
the arms of summer

© K. James Ribble / orchid blue

daycap of Winter sits
crowned cloudless

unarranged

everything that I am now
appears in stillness of

foresight

as January embers heave
weight to February’s

insouciant

Aire of light, uncommon celestial
angles made ecliptic and

wary

in the slanted wisps of
our candor, singing to us

terrestrial

like the tail of a comet, its
coma shouldered alluvial like

silted

light flows downstream,
fertile – and stars birthed

form

an entablature, like the frieze
and valance of their glow in your eyes

© K. James Ribble / incumbent light

There, in the in-between
of memory
and knowing –
your hands
reach for me, soft
delicate
like the dew
in reflection
tears of diamonds in
the blue of Spring grass

You come to me like
a sinew of light,
remains of yesterday’s
bone in tomorrow’s hand
Intrepid
Lost,
I lay beside you
Wandering
catching parables
of fate in
dusk’s ligaments
and the smell of rain

Our pyramids
in ever glowing
canyons
Form a lotus
kaleidoscopic
in white, carpeted azure
aerial frequencies calm in the
grasp of nightfall,
moonlight
Laying presence in
Your eyes reflecting rain, the
Summer fast approaching in
every color washed bright

© K. James Ribble / Sinew of Light

Dusk bleeds light into the torniquet of night
scored by the echoes of the raven’s cries,
their pleas and petitions ignored by Theia
in an unscripted silence known only to
a scoured and shadowed moon whose lies,
told by laurel, cinder-laced clouds, tints in
gathered admonition to your body’s aura and
and its projections – who could know such voids?
For even siblings of heaven cannot perceive
the station your heart resides in sighs
where nightfall rests in the Hallway of time.

© Thespian Drummer / Shadowed Moon

The moon lingers inside
the brushstrokes of you,
your soul resides near a place
I know of where I sense the passage
of time, time as human as
the Given sentience to recognize
These feelings, I know a Time:
to Know How it Feels, how Earth
Smells, how it sounds, and the colors
Of its place in this galaxy –
How her waters taste like
Life itself how the sound of
rain Rocks me into a sleep
of Untold Solace –
Drunk with the sovereignty
of reminiscence, this Ownership
of time has no presence Here,
it emerges into a Light
the bounty of which My love
for you is gladly paid –
nothing in This universe can
compare To the gaze and glance
Of your smile, a sweetness
bringing Tears to the wingspan
Of every swallow in these lands
Where I belong to you
Where We Belong to us

© Thespian Drummer / The Moon Lingers