Category: nature
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A Bigly Branch
High in a tree a rotted branch hangs suspended in air fuel for a late night fire Afraid of falling holding on to live branches refusing to concede it has lost its battle Maybe it will fall in the middle of the night; no one to see, no one to hear no one to hurt…
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untitled
Some leaves’ glide path is smooth gondolas floating in air. Some swing back and forth like cradles. Some spin dizzy. Some resist, rise up on thermals. Some go heavy to ground. All I know is that I’m falling. 11-15-20
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After the storm
How many drums would call us to dance or empty bellies amplify strings strung? How many flutes would the artificer hollow or drum sticks ask a blade to shape their soul? How many castanets would kiss flamenco fingers or wood blocks teach beats in grade school? If storm downed trees told chainsaws, quiet I’m not…
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Listening to rain
Between bands of rain you walk A mile in thunder Head home It stops before you’re home You take off shoes Sun comes out Call it a day any way Possibilities anchor you to the porch 11-11-20
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Haiku – view from my porch looking into the park
gold leaves drift to ground yoga women dip and sway still air waits for rain 11-10-20
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three haikus celebrating autumn in the city
here and there a tree showed red; leaves lost grip and fell rattled on way down in tops of park pines noisy grackles host rallies protest autumn’s change bring rakes and blowers we will watch fresh mulch decay noisy flockers flee 11-8-20
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Wanted: A Pair of Wings
This morning specks of birds in distant sunny sky rise and float No crystal stair not even splintered boards tacks impaling bare feet Teach us to fly to leave the ground to soar above 11-4-20
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morning reverie
In the half-light I read While mom argues with herself She says you have daylight Don’t waste electricity Then says I will hurt my eyes Reading in bad light Mom made up her truisms To fit her need to correct Soon it will be full daylight And she will go back inside 11-2-20
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chilly day
a chilly day an old Idea past its prime we gained an hour don’t waste it rain washes air and trees and the sidewalk that leads to and from our door 11-1-20
My husband's poetry 