Category: nature
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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…
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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…
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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
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rainy day haiku
rain in the morning means no dawn wake up arias or bird feeder songs 5-7-26
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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…
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Backyard buck
Behind my battered backyard fence, bent boughs, bold bamboo, brazen kudzu begin their annual green grab…again. Morning moves slowly over moss. With singing saw and steel bit I split saplings in two and battle brush. -Suddenly- Through the green, a big, bewildered, broad-chested, bristle-boned buck bounds down the brambled bank. Dry leaves dance. My heart…
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The Tree
There is a tree in my dreams. You’ve seen it, too. It sits on a ridge silhouetted against the sky. They use the same tree in dozens of movies. A protagonist sits there waiting to be found by someone who will gift them the resolve to go on. I want to go there, sit under…
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Black umbrella
Tables full inside you sit out of the rain on the porch talk of her new boyfriend changes in her meds and the stomach distress this causes Half-grossed out, half-listening you watch street lights blink on and off behind her as they try to decide if it is dark or light Coffee cup is empty…
My husband's poetry 