Evening Stillness

evening stillness—
the waning light held captive
high in guardian trees

shallow leaf-rimed pool
reflects my withered face as
I splash booted through

above my silvered head—
robins in the smoky dusk
are trilling for rain

Shadow/Fastener

For the Earth

turning my compost

friable matter crumbles

manna on my spade

turning the dark earth,
fertile fragrance drifts upward,
essence of springtime

infinite richness

mud and clay and quiet earth

out of which we came

small wonder
we drift like windborne catkins
longing for return

this April morning
among the daisies and the sage —
I plant myself too

Haiku - Color(ful)

bare maples

receding snows cupping

spring's first rosy buds

weeping willows
turning lacy yellow as they
sway above my head

what a rich purple
lies under sleeping hedgerows
by the garden gate

late winter's song —

its longing for light sparks
red and gold and blue

December Night

winter moon rising

over the snow drowned garden

rain of frozen leaves

evening falls by four
street lamps are going on, one by one —
owl calling nearby

I see her shape dimly
feathered cloak wrapped close about herself —
my familiar in the gloom

rest, say her old eyes,
wear night as your own wise cloak and wait —
the light will rise again.

On Night's Windy Fringes

October Moon and Sumac

Angel's Trumpet (Datura)

One Single Impression - Rest

(For Cassie)

For the sheer joy of it, your tail wagged,
and your magnificent nose was raised to
the scented air, your footfall blithe along
the trail, your wise eyes lifted to the birds,
the clouds above, the dancing stars.

Once (a very long time ago), you
showed me how to live in this world,
how to love it and taste its grandeur.
Now as you move clear eyed and firm
of step toward your final resting place,
I am learning a little how to die.

Written for the incandescent spirits at One Single Impression. A special note here, my darling Cassie is dying, and it hurts more than I can ever say or sing or write. These words emerged fully formed as I sat holding her in my arms a day or two ago.

Morning

Water Window

on hot still days in bright July,
I haunt these quiet flowing rivers,
their heron spiced shallows

deep shady pools like liquid glass,
darkened windows where trout
suspend and finning slowly dream

dawn, deer and wild turkeys drinking
pause, peering down and through,
and water serpents drowse at noon

sundown light and little frogs singing,
then the moon comes up like a
porcelain bowl adrift in a starry sea

(me)

Written for One Single Impression

Early Walkers

At dawn, a frail moon waning up there
somewhere in the unseen blue, blesses
a perfect summer day that will surely
never come again to sing, and slow

walkers in the early fog, we go together
paw and paw through summer yieldings
of sweet purple clover and rhyming
cricket, of humming bee and dancing leaf

while all around us, unseen but deeply
felt and loved, the world is breathing
in and out, our three voices falling
into seamless light and tune and time.

(Me)

All in the Patient Wanderer's Eye

all in the patient wanderer's eye,
these jester hat shapes of delicate columbines
unfurling, the lofty towers of rosy lupins
and crinkled poppies in the hedge at dawn,
cherry trees blooming overhead like confetti,
intensely purple violets in the grass.

between one sunrise moment and the next,
we stand here, she and I, looking upward
at these endless blue skies of infinite possibility,
these dancing spinneys of gently waving trees,
breathing in and out together, we go paw
and paw along - this is all there is.

Wind Horses