Life With Horace

poetry & essays


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over the hills

in and out of light
driving on a road into the hills
to the left a wall of rock
with innards blown away
to upright face
brief travel with a hawk
its shadow leaps onto the road
then passes over me
and for a flash
I follow him
to fly out over
still leafed hills
light footed mist
escaping from their folds
bits of thought deposited by rain
caught on the arms of trees
memory tucked into shadow
waiting for the sun to lift it clear
and dance again


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night lit

my woods are hung
with lamp lit moonlight
shallow beaver wash
turned into opal pools
picked out by
beams that launched
diffused through
vapor rings we know
are ice but touch
us softly

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Day 22. We have just had a full moon, fitting for the week of Earth Day.