Life With Horace

poetry & essays


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A way through

Birds perch on the balding arms
and bud knobbed fingers
of the kitchen door apple tree
There is a flashing gleam
from the eye of a jay
the sun finding unlikely passage
My mind blinks in disbelief
that such a thing could be
My heart knows better
and begins to sing


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Outriders

There are days I see
the broad shape of earth
in the clouds
arriving ahead of wind and snow
tails feathered to a point
evaporating ether like
in ice clear sky
We can only guess
at the cold
they announce
racing battle pennants
for a promised storm
The rattle of their casting bones
driving us to shelter