Turtle sleeps beneath

   the crystal ice, Tommy walks

precariously

I set out

   to touch the moon,

it looks so near

Poetry nearly is not,

   separated from nothing

by a thought

Breezy afternoon

   sitting in the lacy shade

of a leafing tree

warm when the sunlight breaks through,

   cool behind the tender leaves

Soon I will follow,

   walking the endless meadow

across the river

Vultures and robins

   eat our stinky bits and worms,

harbingers of spring

Me, 

   me, me, me.

Me.

Hours of cutting,

   days of warmth—

wood stove

Sound of mowing

   calls the swallows

I have become

   the cow, the calf, the bull

My goal

   is to rid my life of blackjack

High on my poem

   I haven't found the flaw—

yet.

Whip-poor-will's insane,

   put a sock in it!

Frog's gotta run,

   weed-wacker!

Spring leaves

   dot the lawn

after hail

Gamboling calves

   & gambling bucks—

cattle ranching

Plumbing repair

   on Friday is dumb

Then it hits me—

   they're gone

Then it hits me—

   you're gone

There is much

   not to say

The rain passed us by,

   fickle twit

With good intentions

   we hang the hummingbird's feeder

from a redbud branch

kitties watch from below,

   the hummers could care less

In the bright sunlight

   my new sneakers look too white

The cold front

   is welcome—

but now I am cold

What's that flash

   of blue and yellow in the tree?

Tommy!

Another weekend gone!

Afternoon 

   brings a lull—

a stolen moment

Lush is the sound

   of grass in the spring

Sir Edmund—

   thin of face

snaggled smile

(Sir Edmund Hillary)

Look at the trees,

   they're doing a magic dance

Instructions for an artist:

   build

from a collection of hues

a fabrication, a myth

   which looks like the truth

Quaking aspen beats anything—

   shim shim shimmy leaves

all it wants is mariachi!

Green fly sips a bead

   of water upon my arm

then bites me! Ingrate!

The reality of country life 

   is a wild swing between

god-awful and nearly perfect

On pavement—

   this is a glide

smooth on the soles!

A jumble of legs entwined

   we are starfish

taste the salt!

Day ends

   reading light off

head on pillow

silence roars

Chipmunk—

   very dead

gripped in the maw

of our mewing cat

La, it rained

   la, it rained

la la la, it rained 

Point of view—

   The soldier says, I have cold feet

   The captain says, Son, we are all scared

   The chaplin says, God be with you

   The sargant says, Get some dry socks

First blush—

As she baths away her ache

   a plume wafts gently

from the warmth, into the warmth

Life's little pleasures

   ease the pain

On black cats with yellow-green eyes:

   sometimes that is all you see

On losing—

   it happens

An armada of white pelicans

   rests

on their way south

Out of time

   my three violins

sing the comic harmonic

Bach's cantatas prove

   humans can be humane

Every tick of the clock

   brings us closer

to immortality

Felipe Alou

   Felipe Alou

Felipe Alou

We set our clocks back

   returning

what we borrowed

A rock is always handy

Watching you dance

   puts a big smile on my face.

(Tommy dancing to Vince Guaraldi)

I like boots that tie

   belts that cinch

God bless

   the librarian

who says, hush!