Perspective

The ending of the day
The sun casts diamonds
On on lake ripples
Like the caress
Of your navel on mine

We toss stones
For the sound of it
As if there were
A way to rhyme
Our moments together

You nod East
Turning I see the wings
Flapping the cormorant
Into the West and the sun
Ignites your eyes

On Looking

                   - for G.O.

Pouring a mug
of black coffee
and looking through
steam and window glass
at the pink buds
of the Juneberry tree
buffeted by gusts
the lake beyond,
the dim clouds,
I am reminded of
Maude Blessingbourne,
the added e "By George!";
all that time
welling up in heaps
like stones down by
the shore.

Spring

Slightly before dawn
Looking out one
                     Window
He sees Lake Road
With cars passing by
Spring snow
In headlights
A car, a truck

Turning around
The dusted lawn
And the lake,
The horizon
Visible in the        blue
Light even through
The flurry

Budding
Bare branches 
Of the Maple
Which clings
To the                bluff-edge
Waver in
Wind                  flowing off
Rough water

The world
Into which 
                       he is drawn