Tittercluckit buildsto a sharpsquawklike thebird stuck itstoeinto a liveelectrical outletConk-a-reeeeelthe birder booksays but I can’t makethose fit.They fillthe edgesof the woodsby the stream.Red shouldersblur againsta greeningbackdrop.Perpetualspring mating ritual.Busy chatter:Looky-heeeeer!
Behind the Curve Ahead of Myself
I’m thinking of summermy hands busyin dirt I’d hoped tomake ready weeks ago beforethe cold rains soaked our sleepybeds.Sun makes me thinksunflower, coneflower,blanketflower anda nice tomato ortwo but I’m aheadof myself today,behind the curveresurrecting the wobbly planter,seeding greens,radish,turning compostall things thatcome alongwith a little effort.Meanwhile, Inotice my mindwanders forwardas my body slows.Here again, aheadof myself.Still, … Continue reading Behind the Curve Ahead of Myself
Shoreline
Up northwe glideon clear watersmeant for loonsYou in the bowmuscling to shoreI steer-am stearnafter hardportage stumblesyou pull I pushwe move in synclike swans-it appears effortless to those watchingwhile underthe surfacewe churn a deepwe cannot seethis journey, my friendrugged and smoothwe move toward shorethe shoreline moves us
Ground
Each foray nowa little wonderThe brush wepiled last fallheretherea rustlingthen rushrabbit runsto the bank& awayand I no longerafraidof eyes watchingfrom underthe heap offallen ashsit& the log singsa symphonyof beetlesthe sound mayapples makepushing up fromwet earthall breathsquish & gurglegentling melisten
Delicate Things
Tiny bird skeletons shatterfrom chinks in the chimney flue. Another trapped bird struggles to find its way free from a matrix of plasterand lathe in clouds of ancient coal dustbehind an iron grate I cannot move.The cats crouch, waiting, and I too, in anxious anticipation. How long can it go on? Worse, what do I … Continue reading Delicate Things
After Days of Rain
After days of rain, blue sky.Time to turn the dirtshed the shirt.Draggin’ the wagon, to therhythm of thewren again.This big dig, sunbeam dream is a bow to the bee,her humble bumbledrone, the musicof a morning.Apple blossom dappled kingdom.Robin, worm, lemon balm, thewinds got calmand for one littleminute in aworld so flawedthe peaceof this patchis a … Continue reading After Days of Rain
Dogwood of Desire
I want you to bloom the way you did 15 years ago Tree of springtime, bright stars against so much green. I want your younger tree self, your flourish, your promise. The way you recede these days reminds me of the Thin skin on my neck, fine white hair, the snow I find lately on … Continue reading Dogwood of Desire
Deadnettle
I drive east to Ohio in springtime past miles of once-grey fields suddenly blushing waves of purple. Deadnettle, Henbit, splashes of yellow Butterflower burst forth in the low areas just as in the distance hardwood Maples and Poplars, leaf emerald lime against the bones of dying Ash. All is an impressionist painting blur. Study in … Continue reading Deadnettle
Empty Mouth
This dandelion This daffodil clump This dying maple This brittle skin Empty mouth This humorless day This And not much play In me Days you want to quit The thing This thing And can’t even Make fun of Yourself or Take a ribbing Find a future In fuscia Look for a clue In the color … Continue reading Empty Mouth
Aquifer (day26)
As brackish water sputters from the ancient well pump, nut brown, then ocher, all the rusted line innards, heaving upwards, defying gravity, grows paler when blue stone opens the way, we celebrate the waters now, pouring clear, hard, clean, unconfined- And so are we this rosy morn, rising to greet the day, moving as we … Continue reading Aquifer (day26)
Early Morning Poems 