My husband's poetry

Category: nature

  • Along the fence line

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    On a winter day I asked the bare bush that invades the fence line near water’s edge about spring and the bright green anoles that chase along the rail and flush their necks coral pink hoping nubile anoles might see. It replied, “Soon, old man, soon” 1-19-23

  • Augury

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    Because there are no worms or flies this time of year, I will not begrudge a murder of crows a careless squirrel, lying dead in the road. Every once in awhile an easy meal’s okay. Maybe they’ll be more cautious than roadkill squirrels and won’t adorn a grille 1-18-23

  • Rush hour

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    leaves run before the wind rattle in the street where they’re going I don’t know and they did not say they tumbled over one another running before the wind trying to get away 1-12-23

  • Through trees

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    through trees on the far side of the park you see a white house, just a bedroom window you wonder is this a spare room, or is someone sleeping there 1-2-23

  • The last big freeze

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    New Year’s Day, high overhead behind partly cloudy skies jets rumble. On muddy banks turtles return to sun. Dark shells absorb energy, waken dreams of summer. Unbeguiled by a change in the weather, I mourn the ones that did not make it through the last big freeze and the citizen survivors of another missile attack…

  • Mindfulness

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Between bare boughs blooms morning glory blue and wispy clouds of angel breath. Winged silhouettes on thermals. You adrift below them on a bench. Their shadows chase along the ground. 1-3-25

  • Cut flowers

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    “And I won’t forget to put roses on your grave” (Rolling Stones) cut flowers in a vase already dead we keep them only until their death can no longer be denied and throw them in the trash because they will not grow it seems strange to gift my lover a bouquet, because she enjoys the…

  • winter haiku

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    red cardinal flits among last summer’s brown leaves colors of winter 12-30-22

  • Moonscapes

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    “We are the space between the fish and the moon.” Rumi Some nights, the moon lights my way through the dark, but when it wanes it becomes a sword to wage war with the world Other nights, it’s a child pulling at a mother’s heart or just a rock broken from a bigger rock and…

  • Waiting for a pie fight

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Sunrise 36, rain is forecasted for 10 am. Before buckets fall from atop the door in this Three Stooges movie, you get your walk in. An hour before noon, you peek out the windowblind disappointed that it hasn’t rained. 12-20-22