10.22.2016
the tree makes
me smile
all golden in
the late day
sun
first to grasp
the coming of
autumn
it sparks fire
and proclaims
the passing of
the green.
harbinger, signal,
open heart of
seasons’ movement,
I love
this tree.
———————–
10.22.2016
the tree makes
me smile
all golden in
the late day
sun
first to grasp
the coming of
autumn
it sparks fire
and proclaims
the passing of
the green.
harbinger, signal,
open heart of
seasons’ movement,
I love
this tree.
———————–
10.21.2016
in first grade
teacher asked
what we wanted
for Christmas.
a machine-gun,
I stared,
——————-
10.20.2016
long miles of trees
red white pine,
poplar, scrub,
a moosey place
and over a hill
in the road
there he is
lumbering, clopping
sunken horsey hips,
akimbo
ambling forward,
black against the
northern sky
he notices us
considers and turns
into the woods
no panic
just gone.
a moosey tale
for the moosey trail.
——————–
10.19.2016
bullyboywhines
not used to being
on the receiving
end
somethingmustbe
wrongyes
it’s no longer a
riggedgame.
————-
10.15.16
I walked away
from should
today
I felt my soul
say go and
play
let the spirit
guide your
way.
——————
10.12.2016
the hills and curves
of the great river road
spill and swirl
through cobbled
cornstalks and dappled
hillocks, dutch scaled
roofings, moo cow silos
and heather.
greens, ochres
dust yellows and
spark whited cliff
faces fare about
and around the
river wide, narrow
en-isled and opened
carvings of its pathway.
land of pines and
scrub, eagles
and mollusk,
we sink gratefully into
its sovereign flow.
———————
1o.11.2016
a friendly birch tree
holds us as we
share sandwiches
and wine along the road
the gift of many ages
waiting there
for us.
———————-
10.7.2016
dark crisp night
branches so stark
against
the sky
we hold hands
into the dark
stepping ahead
with each
other
as if we’d always
known.
——————-
10.6.2016
warm sweater with
hole in sleeve
still the friend of
generations.
———————–
10.2.2016
they asked for
a poem
so I told
one
which they
weren’t
expecting.
————-