Family
I find
wherever I go.
When I’m far away
It’s never
from home.

-A. Ault-

Often have I wondered,
what is it in a color
that captures me, draws me?

Is there a genetic disposition
to explain my transfixion
of that blue, dark blue?

Or has my mind decided
based on environment
my hue, navy blue?

I know no explanation.
Perhaps  it’s my imagination
my color is blue, always blue.

-A. Ault-

A Sunny Day

A sunny day
one finally warm
Eventually
we tumble out of doors
to walk
to read
Eventually
we stop to enjoy
the sun
the breeze

Before the sun
 is too hot
before the rain
comes again
before the colors
recede
and we barricade
ourselves in.

-A. Ault-

Trivial Pursuit

You didn’t know the answer
to the world’s easiest question
because you don’t partake
in its pop culture obsession.

-A. Ault-

Elegy of Youth

There is my youth
slipping quickly
goodbye, I say
standing soundlessly.
You were never
but a passing
while this future
I was asking
There was my youth,
goodbye.

-A. Ault-

Love Poem

Once I ran to poetry
to express my love
or express the many
loves lost
unrequited
or forgotten

Now I hide my love
it’s no longer poetry
simply it is
multiplies
ebbs, flows
wordlessly

-A. Ault-

If I Were Only

If I were only to hunker down
put this butt in chair,
I’m sure these poetic
words would flow
I’m sure I’d find them there.

But I am a balking, stubborn one
and that time I do not take.
Instead I waste it all online
or eating, or watching air.

If I could simply
commit to sit
this easy, little step
I’d have written
a novel piece
instead I just have this.

-A. Ault-

Cleaning Paws

“Oh, what is this?”
said the mother cat
to the kit who washed
her toes.

“You cannot be
a prissy girl
if you hunt in gardens,
groves.”

Licks. “But mother,”
said the little kit,
“no huntress life
for me.”

“For I have found
a human friend,
and a house cat I
will be!”

-A. Ault-

City Speak

Ideas thrive
as the city breathes.
Thoughts have windows,
words have speed.

-A. Ault-

Patience is a Virtue

What do we know of why we wait
and our perceptions of time
It is a strange consequence
of our nervous minds

Quickly our impulses overwhelm
no time to concentrate
there is a difference in the mind
as our thoughts precipitate

But if our minds can impart,
affect some string of time
Could the waiting but in fact
slacken the casting line?

Or does the waiting help to ferment
the seeds ahead we threw
Cause, effect, or happenstance?
The struggle of our worm-eyed view

-A. Ault-