Butterfly Dance

He looks out into the backyard
Late autumn Sunday afternoon
Sun streaming through the trees
Diffuses into golden glows
Casting patterns of shade and light
Nature’s artwork on display
Truly, a beautiful day

A moment to pause…

He spots a pair of butterflies
As they dance in and out of the shade
They take his mind a thousand miles away
On their fluttering wings he travels to her
He sees her dancing in remaining rain puddles
Giggling with delight … she knows he is there
He feels her smile as the cooling breeze flows in

A moment together…

The two butterflies land together
On a bush right in front of his window
Brings him momentarily back home
Though his eyes must be playing tricks
He sees candy corn shapes on their wings?
Their last time together … candy corn shared
It’s her mischievous wave to him … he smiles

A moment to pause … together

Artist: Lauri Blank; Poet: Mike Evans

Path to Her

A walk alone through the woods
No sign of a trail to follow ahead
No particular destination in mind
His mind wanders with possibility

And then their paths meet
Yes, then their paths meet
His mind is at play, he knows
But, he wanders deeper within

She gives him a mischievous grin
Her knowing look of what’s to come
Tongue stuck out – and off she dances
His invitation to chase…

After a couple of darts through trees
She slows up just enough … and smiles
He tackles her with a kiss on the nose
Her giggles take his breath away

A sudden rustle of leaves …
Brings his mind back … he is alone
Yet, she is forever within him now
And he smiles at the possibilities

He knows he will walk
Through these woods again
With no sign of a trail to follow
He knows the path to her now

And one day … it will be real

Artist: Leonid Afremov; Poet: Mike Evans

She Wonders

She sits on her stool facing the mirror
Her doll strewn on the floor, forgotten

She stares at the made-up stranger in the mirror
And she wonders – is that really me in that body?

She takes another look at the magazine in her lap
The glamorous image of Jane Russell stares back

One day she may grow up to be as pretty as Jane
And she wonders – why it seems to matter to her?

She senses there is more to her than that reflection
The body, merely a container for who she really is

But then, how amazing to be in this growing body
And she wonders…

Artist: Norman Rockwell; Poet: Mike Evans

Tolstoy

“Yes, she’s here for a while to follow in Van Gogh’s footsteps for painting inspiration – just like me. She’s quite good, actually” Angela said with the slightest hint of jealousy. Dylan had never looked at Angela that way, almost as if he were in a trance – and although Angela never really thought of him in that way, she suddenly realized it stung a bit to see his reaction to Jenny.

Jenny maneuvered up to their table on her way to her friends and was about to veer to the side of Angela’s seat when she abruptly stopped – eyes moving toward Dylan. He instantly crimsoned at the thought that she was about to admonish him for impolitely staring at her. Instead, looking at the book he had on the table she smiled “you’re reading Tolstoy? I love Tolstoy.” Then recognizing Angela she said “Hi Angela. How’s the painting going?”

Dylan froze with what must have been the goofiest smile of his life, while Angela answered “Hi Jenny – you know – it’s coming along.” A kick to his shin momentarily brought Dylan out of his daze – and he awkwardly rose to introduce himself. “Hi … um … Jenny is it? I’m Dylan” he beamed. “Hi Dylan – how do you like Anna Karenina?” Jenny asked. “Love it – about half way through so far” He replied.

She gave him a bright smile, which sent him over the edge and turning to Angela asked “Do you mind if me and my friends join you?” And without waiting for the reply, she waved her two friends over and pulled a seat close to Dylan.

Artist: Vincent Van Gogh; Author: Mike Evans

First Glance

The moon cast Jenny’s silhouette across his table as she walked past the cafe – drawing his eyes to her. A voice behind Dylan called out “Jenny, time for a drink?” She spun around, seemingly in slow motion, as Dylan lost himself – first in her eyes. They were brighter than the moon behind her. One glance in his direction and he went numb. She flashed an effortless smile while waving at her friends sitting behind him.

That single smile imprinted her image somewhere deep in his mind. As if time stood still just for him, he found himself recording every nuance of her. He was vaguely aware of boisterous laughter and activity all around him, but they quickly faded into a soft buzzing sound – barely audible.

He was pulled into her eyes and then her smile – her hair loose and carefree framed her beautiful face. She fit perfectly inside her dress – as it seemed to dance with delight against her stride. With each step she took, he found himself pulled closer into her – and found it more difficult to breathe.

Not realizing he had stopped talking in mid-sentence, Angela’s voice seemed to intrude – “Dylan, are you ok?” Following his locked gaze, she smiled “ah yes – Jenny caught your eye – of course.” Unable or unwilling to pull his eyes away from Jenny as she floated towards him, Dylan almost pleaded, “You know her?”

Artist: Vincent Van Gogh; Author: Mike Evans

Autumn Leaves

A soft breeze flows in through the screen door
As the freshness of light autumn rain fills the air
Pleasant white noise of small talk surrounds him
Sitting alone, he is absorbed by Anna Karenina
A safe and comfortable part of his daily routine…

A sudden gust of winds blows through – he looks up
She walks in as if directly out of the pages of his book
It is her aura of beauty that envelops him at first glance
She glides past him with barely a notice – ah, but then –
With a flash – “Tolstoy?” she beams – I love his books…

Chatting over cooling cups of coffee, their story is written
Perhaps, it is predefined destiny that she walks in this day
Perhaps, it is random chance that he reads Tolstoy this day
Whatever the reason, the autumn breeze agrees with them
As they walk along their fragrant path of soggy autumn leaves…

Artist: Leonid Afremov; Poet: Mike Evans

Moment to Share

He dons his shorts and walks along the beach
Hands dancing with the warm gulf breeze
Waves pounding a rhythmic beat on the shore
His private moment

She bundles up and walks out in the woods
Hands dancing with the chilly north wind
Leaves swirling and rustling in chaotic beat
Her private moment

Yet, tonight they are not alone
It is the night of the Frost Moon
In its reflection, night turns to day

And although miles apart…
At the agreed predefined time
They gaze upon the full moon

and share a smile…

Artist: Marlene Moore; Poet: Mike Evans

Symphony of Grass

She strolls through the valley
Surrounded by tall grass

She has errands to run
Tasks to finish

Mischievous breeze teases
At play with the grass
She joins the dance

With both her hands askew
She languidly brushes
Along the surface

The grass gently bends at her touch
Each blade seeking her attention
She smiles at the feathery feel

Caught up in their melodic movement
She conducts a symphony of grass
Keeping tempo with the breeze

And seemingly much too soon
She is through the tall grass

With one last look back
A moment to pause
And she smiles…

The tall grass waves goodbye
She knows she must return
To take a moment to play

But now, she is on her way
Beyond the Valley

Artist: Shannon Grissom; Poet: Mike Evans

She Dreams

She dreams him as they walk together in the park
He dreams her delicate hand sliding into his

She dreams him as the soft whispers in her ear
He dreams her as the loving breath he takes in

She dreams his soft glow that brightens her world
He dreams her impossible beauty that he must see

She dreams his waves as they sweep upon her shores
He dreams her with endless rhythmic kisses

She dreams the flickering flame of a candle
He dreams the air, keeping her beauty burning bright

She dreams him as the breeze at play with her leaves
He dreams her as the tree who dances with his touch

She dreams him as the breeze through her open window
He dreams her smile as his breeze softly flows in

She dreams him as the bow to her cello
He dreams music as he strokes her strings

She dreams him in vivid colors on her canvas
He dreams her as the beautiful painting

They dream … as one

Artist: Leonid Afremov; Poet: Mike Evans

It’s Complicated…

Flowing along, like a leaf on the river’s surface
With no particular destination in mind

A mysterious sight on the shore catches the eye
Stop to investigate – not really knowing why

Pulled like a moth drawn to the flame…
Must be curiosity … human nature is at play

Larger questions could be reflected upon
Is it destiny … is it random chance

Ah – but, it is more complicated than that…
With life  … there’s all the rest…

Artist: Leonid Afremov; Poet: Mike Evans