Two Steps Past Autumn

Leaves fell faster this year,
Maple, oak, calendar…
I rake them, mound them,
leaf through them
looking for childhood.

They burn in beautiful bonfires,
Sparks rise heavenward
like so many fireflies.
I travel backwards
to when I still knew how to sing.

The fire, suddenly shy
beneath a harvest moon, slips
slowly to embers.
I stir the ashes,
awaking old dreams.

A Hare in My Eye

It hurts less
but still it is scratched,
this eye
that has seen too much.

Flecked with sunshine
and sorrows, lined
with lashes and more
than a hint of crow’s feet,

there is no denying
the damage done.
Massive, that machete
or maybe  the trunk

of a large tree—
branches, bird’s nest
and all.
Probably an oak,

but No,  said the doc,
It’s just a hare
(That’s what I heard.)
and all wounds heal in time.

Twenty Shades of White

windblown surf
seed pearls
and lace
yards and yards of satin
baby’s first shoes
three walls in the room
(the fourth an aberration)
the roses you grew
magnolias that bloomed
at the edge of the woods
may apple
and trillium
a dove
Bella’s belly
and one paw
clouds on a spring day
sheets,  paper
and linen
milk
and whipped topping
snow newly fallen
plum blossoms

A Poet’s Sun

A poet’s sun this morning,
this light that turns
bare trees baroque.

In rotation with the seasons,
the harvest safely in,
faith is a sure thing.

Earth wears the sun
like a hat
that says Imagine.

Some will say we’re dreamers
and maybe that is so.
I just know it’s easy

to see the world as one
in the hush of early morning
with a liturgy of sun.

 

with thanks to John Lennon
for his inspiring song “Imagine”

Epiphany in a Winter Field

In purple shadows,
a lone fence post
keeps sentinel

over a field
deserted by all
but  a few field mice

and some twisted wire–
remnant of a boundary
long since breached

by the elements
and the ensuing
rust.

Once, foolish man
had claimed it
as his own.

This is God’s land;
we are footprints
then  dust.