Peter Witt is a retired university professor who took up writing poetry in his senior years. His work has appeared on several online platforms and in a published volume (Poems in the Breeze, Lulu.com). Peter also researches and writes family history (Edith’s War: Writings of a Red Cross Worker and Lifelong Champion of Social Justice, Texas A&M University Press).
Morning Prayer in Minor Key
Wisps of sun paint tree tops, brush pastel shades of yellows and orange on silent parade of passing clouds, as backyard mockingbird sings a stolen song that begs my love to rise, pry open her eyes, greet the ascending warmth of a still, sleepy day. And yet, I fear the dawn, for too soon she will be gone, leaving me drowning in my sorrows, bereft for all my dark tomorrows, never again to see her grace the soft of smile alight her face, her sweet voice growing ever cold to me, her future fading to mystery. Oh sun, please delay her rise, close for now my lover's eyes, hold her in my silent gaze, cheeks ablaze in gentle rays, pray with me for just a while that when she wakes I'll feel her smile.
Kites have the best view
Floating with the currents dragon kite, red, white, and blue, sees the countryside sighs with disappointment, at the polluted rivers with their cast of putrid green, the wounded, strip-mined land, super shovels digging a path for the oil pipeline through hundred year old forests, farms dating to pre-civil war times that feel the wrath of fracking wells, the pipelines carrying polluted treasure to the gulf coast of Texas where huge refineries release toxic chemicals, into the air we breathe. Kite sees it all, yet is helpless, like the young boy, to slow down a future bereft with calamitous rains, roiling winds, boiling temperatures. Kite and boy are innocents caught in a world of greed, more interested in wealth than planetary survival. Soon boy is called to dinner, kite reeled in and stored in shed beside the garage bereaved by what it's seen and what it knows is a certain future.
Forever I will be Bereaved
Pine for you in sorrow, your last breath a chill on my cheek damp from tears shed in your moment of final passing. Tonight sheets feel cold, heart aches, head feels heavy, arms yearn for your touch, eyes refuse to close. Our paths were entwined from that first coffee date, then wonder of children, the warm fires of our empty nest, which ended too soon as you sunk further into pallid disarray. Now you are but a memory that inhabits the walls of rooms, the pain of your passing a welcome echo in each movement I make. Forever I will be happily bereaved.