There are no shadows at night

by denny bastian 2013

there are no shadows

at night; the silver orb that

hangs above the orchard

together with the assistance

of a young boy's flashlight

shines the way beyond 

the roots that trip along 

the well-travelled path
to the rickety old outhouse

at the bottom of the yard

a place where catalogues

show their wares

to an audience of one; me

who's quickly absorbed

by the magnificent goods

at the end of the spotlight 

 knowing full well
 that they are out of 

reach of my poor family

living on a farm far 
away from the city 

and neon lights that make 

artificial shadows at night
providing convenient shopping
for unnecessary things.

never-the-less I have my 
hopes and dreams to rely on,

of a sleek new bicycle
to work my paper route, 
of CCM ice skates etching
the clear lake ice,

of real leather cowboy

boots, and two pearl handled 

six shooters complete with

holster and plastic bullets.

although the summer sun 
will surely rise in the morning
to signal the changing of 
the sprinklers, the weeding 
of the vegetable garden,

and the carrying of water from the well.
I will see my own shadow 
pointing west to remind a

little boy of shadowless dreams.

Autumn Passions

by denny bastian 2013

In the innocent time of her sixteenth year,

She stands there; her long, dark, hair hanging

like black silk against the fairest of cheek,

stray strands nibbling at the sensual corners

of her untouched lips, so desired by every

man that has ever seen or spoken to her. Her

eyes, her eyes, they stir my Autumn passions.

My heart is envious of the prized red grape

that she reaches up to pluck from amongst

the red, gold leaves of Autumn.  From a safe

distance, I shyly worship the delicate hand

that plucks the grape, the apron hem that

gently wipes each one, and the lips that part

just enough to taste the succulent fruit of life.

O’ cruel Autumn, you mockingly present to

me what I cannot possibly attain in this lifetime

or the next, for my one true love is the beloved

daughter of a wealthy man and I am but a lowly

gardener who is worthy of much less.  Alas, I

must pretend that I gaze upon the beauty of

Autumn leaves when it is you my heart desires.