Age… by Toni L.A. Cross

Age is a sly old stranger

who comes at the close of the day

Age is a regular charmer

who begs to come and stay

Age is like the furniture

you know him like your stairs

Age is a sly old stranger

he’ll catch you unawares

A Chipmunk Named Morning Sickness… by Toni L.A. Cross

Deep in the pit

of my stomach

a chipmunk seems

to have gotten loose

and he’s running

and chattering

and scurrying about

looking for nuts

or some such

nonsense

I try to tell him

now just isn’t the time

he’s upsetting my breakfast

and he’ll have to pay!

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I’m Columbus… By Toni L.A. Cross

I’m Columbus
on a journey
thinking I know
where it ends
but these trees
don’t look familiar
and the faces seem
so strange
I’m Columbus
on a journey
accidentally
finding newness
in the place
I least expected
because I dared
to sail off
the edge
of the map

crows in winter… by Toni Cross

 

raspy cawing voice of crows
calling to their ancient foes
of snow and ice and wind that blows
bitter steely sound grows and grows
nipping through wool socks to toes

red thought… Toni Cross

A red, red

Train of thought

Singular strain

Never be bought

Crazy, wild

Shifty drought

Into which

I am now caught