All these geese

basking roadside, pondside, sun-
side, ignoring thunderous trucks,
whizzing cars, even the thump
and whine of the garbage collector—
but humans are something else
altogether, and all together, uneasy
at my approach, they turn their heads,
long necks, move in smooth unison
closer to the water. A few startle,
take wing at a runner’s passing
breeze, plunge into the pond,
three white furrows and four more
behind, wings wide then down,
tail feathers shaken into place—
and what a goose I am, trail-walking
roadside, pondside, sun-side,
to startle as the first man runs up
and past, and again to turn my head,
uneasy, when the second, walking,
overtakes me.

Building the Dollhouse, Part 2

cream paint today—Buntlack
in the German which reminds me
there’s no hurry, not for me
(rain sounds like peace and wind
can’t rush it away)

if you’re a little older than when
we first dreamed up this project
that only means your skill
and taste have improved
but then I wonder

(the geese fly over
again the rain sighs
and stops)
if some twelve years of after-
adjustments have made you

want to leave these details
to me and should I be glad
you don’t mind?
we can’t be free of second-guessing
in any season