I envy the squirrels, who need no good government

snow clouds re-gather,
cardinals chirp, crabapples
bright against full gray
and seed feeder full—how else?
some give; others only take

in every changing light

crabapple blossoms
sun-swelled, pomegranate bright
cardinal calling—
we’ll tread rain-fallen petals
find spring in summer corners

 

february garden

1.
finally the birds
invite me to their party
I bring sunflower
seeds found in bits and tatters
to scatter singing like thanks

2.
these found me wanting
green things curled beneath old leaves
still light-ly dozing

Here: Mid October

I lay on warm grass
sun reaching long gold fingers—
a perfect mushroom—
listless, blue-sky studying
resolving to welcome shade

Planting with Natives

twenty years from Texas
and still the itch to set out
winter tomatoes
transplanted gardener’s gaze
forlorn on wind-whipped snow-fields

Perspective

Mars at its nearest
still overwhelmed by brightness
of our own full moon
we sway to what fills our eyes
circumscribed by one small sky

ocean trench

safely held under
fishing for dark life to hold
in freezing cold find
thoughts miles below the surface
swaying to unknown currents

Monday

1. Devil’s Workshop

One tangled scarf-skein
fails; I no longer want this
choking cloud color

2. Budget Accommodations

On shoestring of doubt
you get the whole shiny house
hollow, echoing
haunting the way you wanted
yesterday, buyer’s remorse

Kids, Grasses

bowed by yesternight’s
rain, now wonder at glimmer
of perfect round drops—
promises unhatched, waiting
for shake-off, dawn’s dazzle-stroke

Another tanka for Yeah Write’s September poetry slam.

Bees, Kids, Stonehenge

We breed them for calm
We hijack our own future
We will be buried
rows of standing sarsen stones
puzzling some other species
 
Practicing tanka for the Yeah Write September poetry slam. Also reading this article about stolen bees and this article about a new discovery near Stonehenge.