hope like arugula sprouts
big enough to be seen
from a second-floor window


cat out and leap-chasing
shadows—sparrow, crow,
flick/sway of still-bare branches


water wind-rippled in bird baths
sometimes sun-shimmered, reflecting
on redbud bark


that april blizzard and how
we could see again
smooth-swirl snow on rooftops,
dollops on red-budded trees

bird, dog, cat

it happens
from time to time, a mystery
small bird in the house

junco wild-flight hurl at glass door
falling stunned; sparrow
parked on pantry, peering
black-eyed over the molding

how it spent a night in the mixing bowl
how I caught it in the curtain, heart beating
flutter in my closed hand
how the dog whined and pointed
how the cat had grown bored long since
the gift already given

Garden Door Revolving

Not truly revolving
on the whim of a cat—
only the human is automatic


Hummingbirds dart through
a whirl or two
by the feeder. Faster
than any soon-to-close


What greater joy
than looking ahead
wondering through
the other side?
A communion
with the wisdom of cats


Taking these things in turn,
I plan a larger garden.
String staked out, rectangular
like door-panes laid flat.
The days unspool
birch leaves teasing the sun

Once, Upon a Cat

We are silly in love
like new parents, praising
lap-leap, chair-leap
keyboard walk of tiny paws
fishhook claws that pounce
unguarded ankles

What immortal hand or eye
framed infant tiger’s
curving spine to fit, perfect
in my one hand? Bright
companion of this dark hour
your heart-full purr fills forests

Lightly, for Day 4 of the PAD Chapbook Challenge; prompt “Once Upon a (Blank).”