For you, the one who told me that we came from stars.




I am caught up

Remembering our laughter

In the shadow like half darkness

Of our orange flowered room.

Your stories were the calm

In the storm.

Your songs

Muted out all else

Drawing me in

To the sanctuary

Of their melody.

We often left

That little nest

Two sit out and watch the stars

On a summer night.

Sometimes they seemed so close

Shimmering like

Fireflies. I

used to think that the Greek gods and godesses

Were watching us from the cavernous sky

Waiting to turn us into muses.

Or into stars

On summer nights.

J. Hamilton

december blooms

Blooming in December,

Golden Petals

On a thin branch

Where wintering birds

Normally perch

Waiting for bread crumbs to spill through

The holes in shallow pockets.

For a moment

It seems

That the sun has warmed the earth again

The soil

Under my feet



I think spring has returned in the yellow giddy


And in the trickle of a stream

Near by.

How strange it seems

That winter has embarked here quietly

Waiting to blanket the garden


And to lull the new blooms to sleep.

J. Hamilton

december afternoon


The afternoon sun needs a place
To fall.
Its hands greet the treed horizon
And the stream dotted with geese
December cools my skin
Yet the embrace of sun
And an unfrosted landscape
Make me want to stand
In its light a little longer
-surrounded by long grasses
And tangles of weeds and twigs
Around my feet.
I feel small again
Having wandered off path
But having found my own sacred earth
And wondrous. J. Hamilton