Category: nature
-
seas of light
too hot to swim ducks and geese rest in cattail shadows in the shade of my yard I rest, call friends and wonder if the dead never leave us and are just resting in the shade of this life before they begin to swim in seas of light upon light 6-9-26
-
rescue dogs
Rescue dogs press ribs against chain link fences. Hunger grows fur and learns to whimper. Each carries a story written in mange, cigarette burns, missing ears, limps that predicted rain. When anyone lifts their hand too quickly, a brindled mutt hides beneath a plastic chair. Volunteers call them damaged, but the dogs still wagged their…
-
Thick and muddy
This morning the pond is thick and muddy; turtles still must extend their heads above the water to breathe. Geese teach goslings how to swim and dive for food. Mallards rest quiet on shore, while cattails grow slender and tall. Trees shake last night’s rain upon my head as I count the name of Light…
-
rainy day coffee
Wet tires hiss in street Light rain drums window Coffee shop voyeur – notebook in hand Couples talk in low voices Groups laugh, cajole, share stories While devotees pray at laptop altars They read posts about exhibits in museums Curated, static moments Locked in fabric, stone and paint Posed and moved from room to room…
-
Sonic voyeurism
Cardinals call back and forth Mourning doves coo in woods Blue jays squabble at anything that comes close Neighbor’s little dogs yap on their deck Owls call from tree tops – Night is coming! Tree frogs reply – Yes, the night is coming! Somewhere in the distance sirens call Get out of my way, I’m…
-
Waiting on the rain
I want to lie awake and listen to rain on the roof in the gutters and drains as it slowly digests every solid thing and excretes them in the sea and when this world is done with me, flush me adrift on my way to sea. 5-11-26
-
rainy day haiku
rain in the morning means no dawn wake up arias or bird feeder songs 5-7-26
-
Leave a window open
When clouds and thunder pulled curtains over the sun, momma would read scriptures written in the sky. She have us throw open the southwest windows, because if the pressure could somehow equalize and if the house had enough fresh air to recite prayers and if the walls held no fear of dying, the house would…
My husband's poetry 