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
- 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.
Outside The kitchen window Kettle on A rabbit In the garden A robin In front of the Car they seem To keep clear This space A radius on which their Loci impose Separation
Distance In a species Unfit to that To become singular Set aside Longing To be With As if Between roadside Chicory There might be Three full strides
For W.C. Williams Purple Crocuses Atop green shoots Each new spring and All brings An inhalation Breath pulled From this We call it By our favorite Names Earth & tree Which we think Might be Akin to A town ~
More today They pile up Line in queues Apart A separate reality Mourning The resilience Of the Daffodils Plucked Uprooted Still bloom ~
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