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.