He is the best boy
all joy and full on stalwart
puppy heart still beats
Tag Archives: poetry
Sun 1
What brings you to your knees sun
on mornings when you flee the other world
and mask yourself with cloud
flattening the day’s light into scrim
I feel certain of your grief
and lie resigned to graying tears
running down a window cheek
the house dogs take dimness
as a time to sleep
so there is that
5.14
Opening the door I lean
to smell the subtle trail of spring
it is the time of violet night
of fading monochrome
when the other half of my heart
beats in echo time
slipping through the layers
of descending dark
to leave its kiss
Mountain top
Stars begin to drop into
the growing dark of a clear night sky
as I come down the mountain
to our woods, the path familiar
my feet sure in waning light
I went up alone craving you
the burn cleared granite
comfort warm at sunset, words
escaping into the rising drafts
as song, wait for me
I will be there given time
Haiku for a windy Friday
bird wing cloud flies
to welcome returning birds
lilac buds are green
Just a bit
I need a little more time
say a month
added to each day
For love so that its echoes
will remain when I am gone
To listen once again to live voices
in sustained pianissimo
And to capture light
the way I see it
Haiku for a spring Monday
tree crowns washed by sun
dawn’s point of gleam inching right
buds are not ready
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
Haiku for a Monday night
blowing wind comes fast
scraping at the full moon’s light
spring is not here yet
Looking down
It was bright enough
to see dark trunks
rising out of the snow
looking down into the open
brook delta of my woods
Another night of moon
on opal white
Haiku for a Friday morning
doves feed at first light
days stretching out at each end
more snow is falling
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
Life With Horace 